


Violet Eyes

by rushosmj



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bigotry & Prejudice, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Magic Made Them Do It, Past Child Abuse, Psychopaths In Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-10-11 22:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 67,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10475583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rushosmj/pseuds/rushosmj
Summary: Tom Riddle, the boy he was before he became Lord Voldemort, had many secrets. Few knew his real name, fewer still knew his true objective...and only one knew the man behind the mask. Rated M for mentions of child abuse and animal abuse, there will be sex scenes in the future. Please be aware of the trigger warning.





	1. The Boy Called Tom Riddle

**Author's Note:**

> All things Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and any parts of her work that are re-created here are from either the Half-Blood Prince or Chamber of Secrets. I only own my original characters.

Chapter 1: The Boy Called Tom Riddle

Harry climbed the stairs to Albus Dumbledore’s office and with each step his feelings of excitement seemed to grow. Ever since the beginning of his sixth year, he had been receiving lessons from the Headmaster in secret. Lessons that had become anything other than what he had expected. At first, he had thought he would be learning powerful defensive magic, or perhaps continuing the disastrous occlumency lessons he had begun the year before with Snape.  
It turned out to be neither.

He reached the top of the stairs, knocking as he did on the great wooden door that marked the entrance to the office of the Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Come in” came the muffled voice of Harry’s mentor and teacher.

“Hello professor” Harry said and then frowned slightly as he saw the pensive was already present on Dumbledore’s desk. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Oh no, you are right on time. I simply took the liberty of preparing things for you as we have a lot of information to cover in our session tonight.” He gestured with his good hand; the other still contained the ring and as a result was blackened and shriveled by some magic the man had yet to discuss with Harry.

“Do you recall where we left off last time we met?” Asked the old man gently as Harry took his seat in front of the massive desk.

“Yes sir, you showed me the memory of Voldemort’s mother and his father along with your thoughts on how it was they met.”

“Yes, that’s right exactly.” His eyes lighting up with pleasure at Harry’s correct answer. “We will be picking off at the next point; this time however, we will be using a memory of my own.”

“Of your own, sir?”

“Yes, you see Harry, Voldemort is not entirely the man you have come to believe he is. Last time, I suspected you harbored some feelings of surprise at the thought that such a dark wizard as he could even have a mother.” He paused, waiting for Harry to argue.

He said nothing, knowing full well that he had been surprised. Surprised, that the monster that had killed Harry’s entire family had been born to people who might have cared for him.

“As such, in order for us to truly understand his motives and understand his plans, we must come to see things from his point of view. Today, I think we might manage that.” He continued.

Harry only nodded and turned his entire attention to the swirling mass of silver fog which was present in the bowl before him. He took a deep breath, and plunged down, Dumbledore following very shortly after.

London, England July, 1938

“Tom…Tom!” The youngest matron hissed at him in frustration. “What are you doing?”

“…just playing.” Tom said with annoyance cleanly hidden behind his innocent smile.

“You are playing with ten frogs?” The matron asked suspiciously.

“Yes, it’s quite fun, would you like to join me?” He kept his smile plastered on his face.

“Of course not!” She growled in frustration as she picked the eleven year-old boy up by the collar of his worn jacked. “You have a visitor, you need to look presentable. Oh and where has Ivy got too?”

Tom instantly flinched at the touch of the old bat (though she couldn’t have been more than thirty). He was always uncomfortable with others touching him, but even more so when it was unexpected. He also felt surprise, this matron was new and she didn’t have the skittishness that the others had around him. Well, he would have to change that.  
“I’m here matron!” another voice said which belonged to a girl who was his age.

“Oh well at least you haven’t completely destroyed your clothes. Come here, there is a visitor that wants to see both you and Tom.”

“Both?” Ivy said, but followed along dutifully after the matron.

“Yes both, maybe he wants to adopt you. Be on your best behavior or you won’t get any supper!” She threatened, still dragging Tom along behind her by his jacket.

Tom’s eyes narrowed at the threat. It wasn’t an empty one, he knew that. He also knew that the orphanage was overrun, like usual, and he and Ivy were getting older. They were getting less…desirable. He knew that the Head Matron, Miss Cole hated the pair of them, that she would do anything to be rid of them. Stubbornly, he threw his feet down, forcing the matron to let go of his collar.

“I can walk there myself. Besides, Ivy needs to wash her hands.” He said icily.

“Fine! Just be presentable in five minutes.” And she jogged away, no doubt to ensure that their guest wouldn’t be kept waiting for too long.

“I don’t need to wash my hands Tom; you were the one playing in the mud with the frogs.” Ivy said pointedly, nodding as she did so at Tom’s hands.

“I know that. I just wanted to get rid of her.” Tom said levelly. “Anyway, those ten should do us for the next few days. I want to see if we can make them explode like the one last week. Besides, do you really want to go without dinner two nights in a row?”

“…no.” Ivy said quietly. They had been threatened by Miss Cole the day before, and despite their efforts, they just couldn’t explain how Timmy and Johnny had both fallen down the stairs. Two different times. On the same day. Even though Ivy and Tom had both been in separate areas of the building at the time. It never seemed to matter to Miss Cole though, it was always their fault.

“Well then, I need to go change.” Tom said dismissively. “Come with me.”

Ivy dutifully followed.

The two walked in silence down the long, white corridor to Tom’s room. Once there, he quickly changed into a new jacket and new white shirt, pausing in between to wash his hands in the wash stand that at the end of the room.

“Tom…do you really think we will get adopted?” Ivy’s voice broke the comfortable silence. There was no wistful hope in her voice, no that had been broken years before after disappointment after disappointment. Though Tom had been at the orphanage the longest of any of the children, Ivy had been there second-longest.

Tom had heard the story many times from the matrons’ fat mouths. His mother had given birth in this very building, dying shortly after, giving only enough instructions as to provide his new caretaker’s with a name: Tom Marvolo Riddle. She had said Tom and Riddle after his father, while Marvolo, an odd name, was provided in memory of her father, his grandfather.

After that, Tom had known only this orphanage. He hadn’t gotten along with the other children, had flat out refused to play with them, and, when they became too annoying, he would…punish them. At first, Tom hadn’t been able to control it, but then, slowly, he discovered he could. He had felt special, in that moment, finally feeling like he could do something others could not.

Then, the year he had turned five, he discovered he wasn’t alone.

Tom paused in his washing to shoot a look at the girl seated on his bed. Ivy Marie Petros had arrived at the orphanage the year both she and Tom had turned five. She had been an odd one even then. She never uttered a word for the first year of her stay. Tom had ignored her. Just another stupid girl, no interest to him whatsoever.

“Of course not, Ivy. Don’t be daft. Who would want a pair of eleven-year olds? If anything, I’ll be adopted.” He smiled at her. Not a totally unkind smile and Ivy knew him well enough to catch on to his favorite subject to tease her with.

She looked at him, returning the smile, jerking her head casually to the right. As she did so, the water basin in which he had been washing the mud from his hands jiggled, threatening to spill all over his second set of clean clothes.

Tom jumped back, alarm written on his handsome features. He whirled around to face her, eyes narrowed and ready for anything she might do. But, as usual, Ivy didn’t do anything to Tom. She just continued to smile before asking, “Are you quite done? The matron said we only had five minutes.”

 

Tom led the way back from his room to the main entrance of the orphanage. Ivy followed close behind him. As he passed the various other residents, he smirked as he saw the fear in their eyes. Worthless, every one of them. The only person in Tom’s world who wasn’t the least bit useless was the one following him.

Ivy had begun to catch Tom’s eye several months after she arrived. She still wasn’t talking, but Tom had noticed that while the others steered clear of him, Ivy hadn’t been so lucky. She had gotten bullied. Mostly because of her eyes at first, both of which were an unusual shade of violet, but when she didn’t fight back or cry the bullying only got worse. It wasn’t until the group of them went out to the cape, like they did every summer that it happened.

Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, perhaps the two biggest fools that Tom had ever seen, corned Ivy down by the beach. English beaches, being that they were never quite warm and always windy, had caused the two of them to insist Ivy join them in a cave. Tom had overheard them and decided to follow behind them out of boredom.

Dennis had started it, Tom had seen it clearly. He shoved Ivy, and hard. The girl was smaller than the others her age and went down, bloodying one knee considerably in the process. Tom had expected her to start crying, but she simply rose quietly back to her feet and shot Dennis the nastiest glare she could.

That infuriated Amy, who shoved Ivy again trying to elicit a response from the smaller girl. This went on for several minutes, both bullies shouted taunts at Ivy, saying things like, ‘purple-freak’ and ‘stupid monkey’. Tom watched the entire exchange and was about to step in, after all, he wasn’t going to be blamed for those fools killing the girl, when he felt it.

It was like a rush of power, one that he had felt before in himself. But this time, it came from outside of him. There was a bright light and Amy and Dennis had been shoved backwards, both hitting their heads on the stone wall behind them. Tom turned to look and saw Ivy, breathing hard, wiping blood away from her mouth.

“How did you...?” Tom began to say, when another burst of light, this time red, shot forth from Ivy, hitting both of the others and causing them to scream in agony.

The light went out as abruptly as it had appeared, and Ivy fell to her knees, splaying her hands out in front of her to avoid hitting her face on the stones.

Tom approached her cautiously, lest she turn her powers on him. He crouched down beside her, careful not to make too much noise. She stiffened as she sensed someone beside her, and looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time. Tom widened his own dark eyes, enchanted by something he had never seen before.

His hands twitched and in that moment, he knew he had to…collect her.

 

Tom and Ivy arrived in the entrance area of the building well within the five minute time-frame they were given. Miss Cole was waiting for them along with possibly the most garishly dressed man Tom had ever seen.

The man was older, Tom guessed around fifty, and sported a purple suit that clashed hideously with his auburn hair and beard. The man’s eyes were blue and twinkled at the two children. Tom’s eyes narrowed. He had a knack for guessing how people would interact with him, and for some reason, this man caused him to be on edge.

Tom moved, ever so slightly, to position himself partially in front of Ivy.

“Ah, you must be Tom, and you must be Ivy.” The man said pleasantly as if he couldn’t be more delighted in the world to talk to two orphans. “I was hoping to spend a few moments speaking with you. Is there a place we could go, the three of us?” The man began talking, directly addressing Tom and Ivy, but the last part was directed at Miss Cole.

“Yes, you may go in Tom’s room if you like. It’s the closer of the two.” She shot Tom a look that was a mix of distaste and fear. He ignored her.

“Yes sir, please follow me.” He gestured for the odd man to follow him, Ivy, as always painfully alert, following behind him.

They entered Tom’s room, ironic as they had just left it moments before. The man closed the door behind himself and waiting for the two of them to be settled. Ivy took a seat on the bed, Tom choosing to sit next to her. The man grabbed the chair out from under the desk and dragged it forward to sit on.

“Hello Tom, hello Ivy.” The man said again, “My name is professor Dumbledore.”

At the title, Tom tensed. “Professor? Is that like ‘doctor’? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at us?” He pointed a finger at the door, accusing Miss Cole, the old bag. His could feel his heart speed up. He wouldn’t go back to a hospital; he wouldn’t let Ivy go either. He didn’t care what anyone said, they weren’t mad.

“No, no.” Said Dumbledore.  
“I don’t believe you. She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!” Tom was beginning to become nervous. He had been sent the year before, he still remembered the poking and the prodding and the…medications. So bad they made you want to die.

He only settled down a little when he felt Ivy’s hand clench around the back of his shirt. He hated touch, specially unexpected touch…from anyone but Ivy. He felt his heart rate slow down and he forced himself to regain his composure.

“Who are you?” He almost hissed. Tom hated many things, but lying was the worst. He wouldn’t put up with it from anyone, not even this eccentric buffoon.

“I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you both a place at my school—your new school, if you would like to come.”

Hogwarts? Tom thought, fully panicked. “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor’, yes of course—well, I’m not going see? That old can’s the one who should be in an asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, you can ask them, they’ll tell you! She didn’t either; you aren’t taking either of us.” 

Tom was frantic; he had jumped off the bed, grabbed Ivy’s hand in the process and forced them both to back slowly away from Dumbledore and move towards the door of the room.

“I am not from the asylum, I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you—"

“I’d like to see them try.” Tom said viciously, Ivy’s hand still firm in his grasp. He wouldn’t let anyone take them away; he wouldn’t let them try again.

“Hogwarts is a school for people with special abilities…”

“We aren’t mad!” Tom practically screamed back.

“I know you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school for magic.” Dumbledore said calmly.

For once in a long time, Tom was struck speechless. Slowly, he loosed his grip on Ivy’s hand, turning slightly to catch her eye. She looked at him with the same look of confusion that he knew must he mirrored on his own face. He looked back to Dumbledore and stared at the man as if he could catch him lying.

“Magic?” Tom said, hardly daring to speak the word.

“That’s right.”

“It’s…it’s magic, what we can do?”

“What is it that you both can do?” The professor asked.

“All sorts.” Tom’s emotions were going through a mad swing. He flushed slightly from excitement, walking swiftly to sit back down on the bed. Ivy followed, her violet eyes fixed on Dumbledore in the most unbelievable manner. Tom began to give the professor a run-down of all their experiments, trembling as he did so at the rush of possible discovery.  
“I knew I was different. I knew I was special. And when I met Ivy, I knew she was special too. Always, I knew there was something.”

“Well, you are quite right. You are a wizard. Ivy is a witch.”

“Are you a wizard too?” Ivy asked, her voice soft, speaking to Dumbledore for the first time.

“Yes I am.”

“Prove it.” Tom hissed, his defenses going up at the sound of Ivy’s voice. She always knew how to get to the heart of the matter. “Tell the truth.”

“If, as I take it, you are accepting your places at Hogwarts…?”

“Of course we are.” Tom practically barked at the man.

Dumbledore looked from Tom to Ivy, expecting an answer from her.

“Of course.” She echoed with not a second of hesitation.

“Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir’.”

Tom bit back a retort, quickly analyzing the odds of the situation. If this…Dumbledore person was speaking the truth, it could be their only chance to get out of this rat-hole, together. If not…Tom would only risk severe disappointment, but things would be the same. No harm would come to either of them.

“I’m sorry, sir. I meant—please, Professor, could you show me—?”

Then, to Tom’s total surprise, the man drew a long piece of smoothed wood from his jacket pocket and promptly set his wardrobe on fire. Tom and Ivy both jumped to their feet, Tom’s voice screaming with rage, Ivy’s with shock. Though this was Tom’s room, all of their collective belongings resided in it, including the money they had been saving, slowly and silently.

Then, all at once, the flames were extinguished and not a mark to be seen present on the wardrobe. It was as if the entire thing had never happened. But it had, Tom was sure it had. And that proved it.

The rest of the visit had finished in a whirlwind. It had amazed and frightened Tom that the Professor had known that the several other belongings in the wardrobe didn’t belong to himself or to Ivy. The man had made it clear to Tom that they needed to be returned, and grudgingly he agreed to do so. Those little treasures didn’t matter anymore; he and Ivy would be able to collect many greater and better ones where they were going.

Before the Professor left, he had provided Ivy and Tom both with letters and a list of supplies needed before September 1st. He had also given both of them a large amount of what appeared to be solid gold wizard money and instructions how to shop for their books and other things.

“I can help you both find everything—“

“You are coming with us?” Tom had asked, annoyance threatening to break through his carefully blank expression. They didn’t need him, they didn’t need anyone.

“Certainly, if you—“

“We don’t need you. I’m used to doing things for myself; I go around London on my own all the time. Ivy does too.”

“How do you get to this Diagon Alley, sir?” Ivy asked, her voice smoothing over all the excess emotions that Tom was feeling.

Dumbledore had explained it quite clearly; Tom listened carefully, emotionlessly, but even so was unable to suppress the remark about how common his name was.

“You dislike the name ‘Tom’?

“There are a lot of Toms”. The future Lord Voldemort said.

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present day

Harry burst out of the pensive, his face alight with excitement and confusion. Dumbledore was already standing up, brushing himself off as he smiled encouragingly at Harry.

“Professor…I don’t understand.”

“Yes it is confusing Harry. After all the times you have encountered the followers of Lord Voldemort, have you once noticed the pretty little girl you saw in that memory?”

“No, and forgive me sir…it looked like Riddle was…protecting her?”

“Yes, he was always the type to be protective of the things he considered ‘his’.”

“Sir…?”

“You see Harry, when I said that there was more to Lord Voldemort than you had guessed, I mean that by watching his development we will see his greatest weakness.”

“What would that be, sir?”

Dumbledore only smiled.


	2. Diagon Alley

Chapter 2: Diagnon Alley 

London, England August, 1938

Tom looked with wide-eyed wonder at the scene laid out before him. He had tried, really tried, to keep his face emotionless and blank. It hadn’t worked. Both he and Ivy had met with Dumbledore two weeks before and today had finally been the day where they were able to convince Miss Cole to let them go further into the city by themselves. 

“Tom…” Ivy’s hushed voice shook, almost as much as her hand which was fisted in the back of his jacket. 

“I know…this is…amazing.” It took a lot to impress him, but Diagon Alley had definitely done the job. The two had stumbled through the bar called the Leaky Caldron, asked the bar man to tap the bricks for them, and they were in. 

The two had spent the last half hour simply looking at all there was to see, from the different witches and wizards to the amazing shops. It hadn’t taken them long to get a general lay-out of the alley and to identify the different shops that sold their necessary supplies. 

“Do you want to go get our clothes first?” Ivy asked, purple eyes wide, trying to take everything in.

“No…I want to get our wands.” That, more than anything, was what Tom had been most eager to obtain on this trip. 

“I agree…but people are staring at us.” Ivy said, clearly uncomfortable by the attention. 

“…perhaps clothes are best. We don’t exactly look as if we…belong.” Tom said recognizing what Ivy said was true. He glanced down at their shabby hand-me-downs in disgust, full as they were of patches and stains. He wanted to stand out, yes, but not by something as pedestrian as odd clothes. 

The two had made their way to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions and were soon swept up by the tide and bustle of hundreds of people out to do their shopping.   
Tom pushed open the door to the shop, noting as he did so the little jingle of a bell which, though muffled by the bulk of fabric, was still audible. 

“Coming, coming.” said an older woman (witch?) who hurried out from the back of the establishment. “Oh! Hello! Well, aren’t you two the sweetest thing? Shopping for Hogwarts dears?”

“Yes ma’am.” Tom said politely, and no sooner had the words left his mouth when a tape measure fluttered, un-manned, over to him and began taking every known measure possible on his person. 

Ivy giggled at him and he glared at her as the woman’s back was turned. However he too was so stunned at watching something so out of place for him function as something so utterly ordinary for someone else. 

After about an hour of being measured, hemmed and various what-have-you’s, the pair left the shop, each wearing one set of black robes, the other set safely stowed along with their normal clothing in brown paper bags. 

“Now, wands.” Tom muttered, relieved not to have the woman touch him anymore. They wandered for several minutes before Ivy finally gave in and sweetly asked a passer-by where the best wand-shop would be. The man had dimpled at her and pointed out a rather run-down shop at the end of the street. “You want Ollivander’s,” he said, “there’s no-one better.” 

Which was how the pair of them found themselves inside a dusty, dirty shop, utterly alone. “What kind of place is this?” Tom asked no-one in particular. He poked around at several boxes sitting haphazardly on a chair in the corner. He opened one box and peered inside, noticing as he did so that the wand looked nothing more than a dead piece of wood. 

“It’s a wand shop, young sir.” A disembodied voice replied. 

Both Ivy and Tom jumped like they had been electrocuted, though neither let a sound pass by their lips. 

The voice continued, “Assuming, you will have to forgive me, that you are both muggle-born by your question, let me explain. Wands are the must-have essential instrument through which a wizard,” he nodded at Tom, “or witch,” he nodded at Ivy, “channels their magical energy. There are many thoughts and theories as to why this is the case, however, one truth alone remains.”

The man, by this point, had moved from behind a bookshelf pausing dramatically in his speech. He was older, though not so old as Tom had expected by his voice. He had brown hair that was beginning to turn white at his temples and the largest and brightest eyes Tom had ever seen. So bright that he suspected that if the lights were suddenly extinguished, they would glow brightly in the gloom. 

“…What truth?” Tom asked suspiciously. 

“That the wand chooses the wizard.” The man answered cryptically. “Name’s Ollivander and I am at your service, young master and miss. Would you allow me to assist you?”   
Tom hesitated; he disliked trusting new people and had been seemingly doing it a great deal as of late, but decided to shake it. After all, this man seemed to have insight into something he greatly valued for his future: a way to produce magic. 

The man was about to turn back to his wares when Ivy’s voice stopped him. 

“Excuse me sir, but what’s a Muggle?” 

Ollivander turned around to face her, mouth raised in a ghostly smile. 

©©©  
“Phoenix feather. Phoenix feather?” Tom repeated to himself disbelievingly, taking out the wand and gently moving it back and forth through his dexterous grip. “And yew…13 ½ inches.” He whispered this to himself. He knew better by this time to doubt the power he held in his pale hands. The other wands he had tried all seemed to be nothing more than useless pieces of wood. But, when the old man had handed him this one…it seemed to vibrate with power. 

It had been…intoxicating. 

“…Unicorn hair…and acacia…12 inches exactly.” Ivy’s voice breathed from the floor of Tom’s room, similarly astounded by the piece of branch in her lap. Ivy had only to try three wands to find hers while Tom had to undergo at least twenty. 

He hadn’t been sure at first, whether or not it mattered that his had taken him longer to find his wand. He had been jealous of Ivy’s seemingly instant success. The shop owner had insisted that it didn’t matter how long it took, what mattered was the strength of the wizard and how much the wand…matched him or her, and his jealousy had been extinguished. He merely factored it into how unique he was. 

Such an odd topic really, he reflected. After all, wasn’t a wand just an object? It wasn’t like it had feelings or anything. 

The shopkeeper, Ollivander, had listened to this query, but said nothing more. It seemed he had a habit of only answering the questions he wanted to. It was a trait that infuriated Tom, but he had been forced to endure it. 

The rest of the day had ended in a whirlwind of bookstores, apothecary shops, and various other establishments. The two had finally, and very reluctantly, decided to leave Diagon Alley, their new shiny school trunks in tow, once it had begun to get very dark indeed. 

They had made it back to the orphanage just as the gates were closing for the night and had to endure a rather scathing rant from several of the matrons. Tom had kept a pleasant smile on his face throughout the ordeal while Ivy had kept her own face carefully blank. Both were far too eager and excited to really care what the Muggles had to say to them. 

Tom’s mouth quirked up at the thought of the word. 

He liked it. He liked the idea that he and Ivy weren’t them any longer. They were different. Special. Magical. And to Tom that one word truly defined what he had always known to be true: Ivy and he were better than the other children; the matrons…even Miss Cole. He smiled truly at such as happy thought. 

“Tom, have you looked at your books yet?” 

He blinked, smile still on his face, and turned to look down at Ivy from his position on his bed. “No…why?” 

“Because…they are amazing.” Ivy said breathlessly. She turned her face up to meet his eyes. Hers, whenever they met Tom’s, gave him a little tingle of pleasure. She was different, and special, like him. She was smart, having known how to read even before she came to the orphanage. And she was very lovely to look at. Tom’s smile grew wider…yes she was the best part of his collection. Of course, Tom knew that he was superior to her in every possible way, but he acknowledged that Ivy was a close second to that perfection. That suited him just fine; after all, it was the way things were supposed to be. 

“What are you so happy about?” Ivy asked, one eyebrow rising up to meet her glossy brown bangs in question. 

“Oh, just imagining the look on Miss Cole’s face when we learn what we can do to her next summer. Now, what book are you looking at?” He stretched his long legs, he had always been taller than other boys his own age, and slid down to join Ivy on the scruffy carpet that covered the floor of his room. 

©©©

The last two weeks before September 1st seemed to pass at an agonizing crawl. Each morning, Tom would wake up, tensing as he did so, before his fingers slid behind his pillow and touched the smooth surface of his wand. He would instantly relax, able to prove yet again to himself that it hadn’t all been a dream. He and Ivy would be getting out of their hell-hole…they would be free. 

Finally, the day before they were scheduled to head to King’s Cross station arrived. Ivy couldn’t settle down, she paced the floor of his room; she paced the hallway outside his room. Finally, Tom got annoyed and asked her to ‘cut it out’. She glared at him, but acquiesced, choosing instead to thumb through her copy of Standard Book of Spells Grade 1 for the umpteenth time. 

Both Tom and Ivy had practiced what they could of the spells, both succeeding more times than they failed. Tom seemed to excel in spells that were called trans-figurative spells; he actually succeeded in turning a sewing needle that he had stolen from one of the Matron’s partially into a matchstick. Ivy, on the other hand, seemed to be particularly good at the spells that were called charms, having successfully levitated several of her textbooks after about an hour of trying. 

Both were enchanted by the very idea of magic. Both were hungry to learn as much as they could. Both delighted in the idea that they had a secret…something they were sworn never to tell anyone else who would be called a Muggle. 

The night before they would set out for the station, Ivy stayed with Tom. It had been a habit that they had picked up as much younger children. When Tom had originally decided to ‘collect’ Ivy, he had to stake his claim somehow. At first, he took to sticking close to her side, daring the other children to lay a finger on her. Communicating at the same time that she belonged with him. 

It didn’t take long, soon the children, who were already terrified of Tom (and rightly so), stayed far, far away from the purple-eyed child.   
It was actually Ivy, though, who had proved difficult to acquire. 

©©©

Six-year old Tom studied six-year old Ivy who was sitting beside him, her head buried far into a book so old that the binding was coming undone and she had to hold it awkwardly to make sure that the pages wouldn’t fall out. Ivy still hadn’t said a word to him, or anyone since she had come, and he hadn’t seen anything else…odd…out of her since the incident at the Cape in the summer. 

He had been sure he hadn’t imagined it, and both Amy and Dennis gave them both such a wide berth that he was sure that it had happened after all. He regarded the smaller child. She seemed to be intelligent since all she did was read. Even though she hadn’t said anything, Tom didn’t think she was mute, he had heard her make other sounds like the day before when she had tripped and made an audible ‘ooff’ sound. But at least one upside to the arrangement was that the girl never cried either. 

That suited Tom just fine. He couldn’t stand it when the other children cried. It made his head hurt and made him want to strangle them, especially the babies. 

Tom came out of his train of thought when he felt a light tug on his sleeve. He looked down at Ivy and saw she was pointing to a word in her book. He craned his neck to take a look.

“Abnegation…you don’t know what it means?” He asked her, not unkindly. It was rare that she asked for his attention, much less his help with something. This could be a chance to cultivate her. 

She shook her head. 

“I’m not sure either,” he admitted, “let’s look it up.”

She nodded. 

The two pulled out an old dictionary, and Tom found it. “‘To deny or reject a doctrine or belief’.” He read clearly. “Does that make sense?” 

Ivy nodded, and continued reading. 

Tom sighed; this was taking much longer than he thought it would. But then, he reminded himself, what else would he be doing? Then he felt a slight movement from Ivy as she re-situated herself, closer, he saw, to him than where she had been sitting before. 

He smiled. Maybe not too much longer after all. 

©©©

The first time he heard her speak was when she had something to say. Another boy, this one was fairly new, and a little older than Tom, had taken one of Ivy’s books. Tom had left her, just for a moment, to use the bathroom, assuring her that he would be back in a moment. She had nodded. 

When he returned, he saw the blundering idiot, (what was his name? John? Such a common name) holding Ivy’s current book over her head. Ivy herself, again never on the verge of tears, was stretched on her tippy-toes, as far as she could go, fingertips just grasping the edge of the book. 

The other children in the playroom had stopped to watch the scene. Some laughing, some looking curious, others who had spied Tom and looking down-right terrified.   
“Looks like John likes Ivy.” Donald Ramsey sniggered behind one fat hand. 

Tom narrowed his eyes, his mouth frowning down in sudden rage. Ivy was his, not John’s, not anyone’s. He imagined what he would do to Donald just for suggesting such a stupid thing. 

“S-stop! You’ll r-rip it!” 

Tom looked around for the source of this newest voice and was utterly surprised that it had come from Ivy herself. 

“Ha, why don’t you get it then, freak?” John said as he put one meaty hand on Ivy’s face, pushing her away and holding her book even higher. 

Tom narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. 

Snap! 

“Ouuuch!” John screamed as he doubled over, the book he was holding falling to the floor. He began to cry, big, fat tears rolling down his cheek as he held his clearly broken arm to himself in an effort to make the pain subside. 

Tom inhaled as he watched the scene. Ivy blinked at the blubbering mess of a boy, gathered her book and walked calmly over to Tom’s side. She looked up at him, in that moment, and seemed to understand. He met her intense gaze, raising one dark eyebrow as though challenging her to say anything. She didn’t. Instead she slipped her hand into Tom’s own. He tensed at the unexpected touch, but relaxed when he found he didn’t mind it as much as he thought. It still made him itch, but not as much as other things. The two left the playroom, oblivious to the other children shrinking from them in fear. 

That night, Tom had been about to drift to sleep when he heard a soft knock at his door. He sat up, irritated that the matron had decided to bother him with something this late. But also a bit apprehensive, did they somehow find out he had been the one to break Marcus’s arm? He opened the door cautiously and was surprised to see Ivy, clutching a stuffed rabbit and looking at him intently. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked her, confused and worried that perhaps Marcus had, even in his bandaged state, decided to exact some kind of revenge. 

She shook her head and he relaxed, it must be nothing then. “T-Tom.” She said softly, looking at him, her voice a little raspy from disuse. 

“Yes. I’m Tom, Tom Marvolo Riddle.” He said softly. 

“I-Ivy. Ivy Marie Petros.” She said, her violet eyes still holding Tom’s. 

“Well, Ivy. How would you like to…belong to me?” He asked her, charming smile filling his six-year old face. This would be the test. She had revealed what she could do; Tom had revealed what he could do. He had even gone a step further and shown her what he would be willing to do for her. Now, what would she be willing to do for him? 

Ivy didn’t say a word, but entered Tom’s room. That night marked a decision that neither could ever go back on or regret. 

©©©

Tom and Ivy lay side-by-side in Tom’s little bed on August 31st. Both were too excited to sleep, both were nervous and wanted each other’s company, though Tom would never admit that to anyone. Ivy had grown out of sleeping next to Tom by the time they were both eight. The Matrons never said anything as they were simply delighted that the little girl had finally decided to start talking. But as they grew older they made it clear that it was becoming more inappropriate. 

Tom didn’t care; he wanted his things where he wanted them, where he could see them. And the night before they were to go to Hogwarts, he wanted Ivy beside him.   
“What do you think it will be like?” Ivy said in a whisper, her back against the wall, facing Tom who also lay on his side facing her. 

“Better than we could ever imagine.” He frowned, remembering several lines from their textbooks. “I bet there will be ghosts and maybe even goblins!” He smiled, excited as he was, it was only natural. 

Ivy smiled back. Tom almost never smiled his true smile around others. He found that they found it to be creepy or off-putting. Because of that he had to invent another smile that put others at ease and got them to do what he wanted. Not Ivy though, she was the only one he had never had to build walls around, mostly, he reflected, because he met her when he didn’t have those walls at all.

She had become a constant in his life, the one person who he felt he could truly be himself around. Whatever that meant. He could be the person who broke Marcus’s arm, the person who found frogs in the yard to implode. The person who laughed as the younger children wet themselves as he walked past. Ivy never seemed to mind. He found he liked that about her. 

“Do you think there will really be unicorns? And dragons?” She sounded enchanted. 

“Absolutely, the books said there were.” Tom replied with confidence. 

Ivy settled down, sweet smile still on her face. “Mav, I’m not sure I can go to sleep. I’m too excited.” 

“You will, and before you know it, we will be at Hogwarts.” Tom said, patting her head in an affectionate manner, like one would a dog.

Mav was the nickname she had come up with for him, knowing, as she did, how much he disliked his first name. The name had come from her butchering of his middle name, Marvolo. She struggled to pronounce it the first time, calling him Tom Mavolo, and the nickname had stuck. Tom didn’t mind. It was his secret name. The name he would use or that she would use when it was just the two of them. 

“Go to sleep, our new life will begin soon.” Tom ordered. Then settled himself down, willing for the morning to come as soon as it could.


	3. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Chapter 3: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry 

London, England September, 1938

“Platform 9 and ¾? What do you think I am, an idiot?” The station worker said with irritation present in his eyes. “Get lost you rats.” 

Tom glared at the man, wishing death upon him for treating him this way. Though, in hindsight, he supposed a Muggle wouldn’t even know that such a place existed. But what were they to do? They had gotten to the station early, much earlier than their letter had indicated, but had both been too eager to stay in the orphanage any longer. Once they arrived at Kings Cross, they had easily found platforms 9 and 10…but nothing else. 

“What are we going to do?” Ivy asked worry clear in her tone. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll think of something.” Tom didn’t want to admit that he was getting nervous. They had arrived at 9 in the morning and had been waiting around for the last hour and a half. Still with no luck. Could it have all been a trick? Could it all have been a dream? He narrowed his dark eyes. No chance. 

“Tom, look.” Ivy said. 

Tom looked up from their seat on a bench across from the wall between the two platforms only to see the person Ivy had been pointing at…disappear. 

Tom stood up. The person, a boy who appeared to be a bit older than them, had walked straight into the wall, large truck in tow. Tom jogged to the other side of the platform, but the boy was nowhere to be found. Puzzled, he returned to Ivy’s side, just in time to see another person, a young girl along with two adults, do the same thing. All three of them were simple there one minute and gone the next. 

“It looks like they went straight through the wall. That’s it, it must be an illusion! Like the wall behind the bar that leads to Diagnon Alley.” Tom said quietly to Ivy, his eyes glinting in triumph. “Ready?” 

They approached the wall, Tom got there first but Ivy hung back.

“It looks pretty solid.” She said doubtfully. 

“Let’s go.” Tom pressed firmly, he wasn’t about to let something as simple as a wall get between him and his destiny. 

Before Ivy could say anything else, Tom pushed forward, quickly walking, and vanished. Ivy blinked, bewildered for a moment, but gathered up her courage and followed him. 

©©©  
Hogwarts, Scotland, Present day

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, paced back and forth in the Gryffindor common room, his mind trained on a particular topic. He had experienced his latest class with Dumbledore the night before, and their discussion still left his mind reeling. He recalled a certain statement that the older wizard had made. 

“I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and feared by most of his peers? He did not want my help or companionship on his trip to Diagnon Alley. He preferred only the company of Miss Petros. Overall, he prefers to work alone, she, as you will come to see, is the sole exception. The adult Voldemort is the same; you will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe he has ever wanted one.” 

“But sir, wouldn’t that girl be considered a friend?” Harry had asked, confused by Dumbledore’s bold declaration. 

“She would have, I believe, been considered a piece of his property, his most valuable possession, the thing he most cared for. She would have been far, far more than a friend, Harry. Far more precious than even family.” 

“Sir….what happened to her? I mean, why is she so important?”

“For the simple reason that she alone made Voldemort who he is today, and you and I will find out just what happened to her.” 

After that last comment, Dumbledore had moved onto other topics, most importantly, Riddle’s obsession with collecting things, like trinkets and trophies. All and all, it was an eventful night, and one that had left more questions in Harry’s mind than answers. 

He continued to pace for several more minutes when his best friend Hermione’s voice cut into his thoughts. 

“Harry, are you quite alright? You have been running tracks into the carpet.” Hermione was peering up from her Advanced Potions textbook, wand conveniently stowed behind her left ear. 

“…Yeah…just thinking about last night.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s some weird stuff, that is.” Said his other best friend Ron. “What do you suppose Dumbledore makes of all that? And to think, You-Know-Who had a girlfriend?” He snorted in disbelief over his half-finished potions essay. 

“Ron! It’s not that simple, this is the first time we have ever heard of this Ivy Petros, and since Dumbledore seems to think she is important, we should too. I think tomorrow I’ll see if I can find her in some of the old student records. They are arranged by house, you know, it won’t take long to comb everything there is on Slytherin.”

Harry contemplated his friends’ words as they turned back to their essays. It seemed that the more information they could find on Voldemort, the better it would be. However, Harry couldn’t help but think of the girl’s face, especially her violet eyes. He couldn’t seem to get those eyes out of his mind.

English Countryside, September, 1938

Tom peered out of the fogged window in their compartment, watching with fascination as the landscape changed from the scenery of the city to the rural and quaint English countryside. Ivy sat across from him, both smugly settled in their seats, excited beyond words. 

They hadn’t managed to find an empty compartment; instead they were sitting with another student, a boy who had brown hair and an owl in a cage on his lap. The boy had been waving goodbye to two adults as the train had pulled out of the station. Seeing this, Tom made the guess that the boy’s parents must be magical as well. 

“Hi there, my name is Marcus Burbage, first years?” He said as he smiled around at both of them much too happily. 

Tom immediately disliked him. But he plastered on his charming smile and introduced himself. 

“Yes, my name is Tom, Tom Riddle and this is…”

“Ivy Petros.” Ivy whispered, always shy around strangers. 

“Ah! Great! This is so exciting, you hear about Hogwarts your whole life and now we are actually going! I haven’t been able to sleep a wink all summer. Do you know what house you will be sorted into? My whole family has been in Hufflepuff, but don’t let that fool you, my dad is the head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and I have met the Minister of Magic once myself.”

The boy continued to babble on, Tom hanging onto his every word. Phrases like, Ministry of Magic, school Houses…all gave him glimpses, just glimpses into the structure of the world he and Ivy were about to join. Tom continued to smile on, waiting for the boy to draw breath when he interjected ever so pleasantly,  
“…Sorry I grew up an orphan so I’m not sure I am following you.” 

“Oh! Oh I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to be so rude! An orphan you say, with Muggles then?”

Tom nodded; a slightly forlorn expression fitting his face and his purpose perfectly. 

“Well, aren’t I a right git! Here I am spouting off things here and there and you don’t know what I’m talking about! Let me backtrack, do you know about the Hogwarts houses?” The boy stumbled, cheeks flaring in obvious embarrassment, but seemed all too eager to offer all the information he could. 

“We don’t.” Ivy answered. 

The boy smiled and began offering explanations and definitions left and right. Tom listened politely, asking additional questions where it seemed necessary, but was content to let the idiot spill all the information he could. Tom smiled a little more deeply during the conversation: it seemed that even if much of his world had changed, wizards could be manipulated in much the same way as Muggles. 

The three continued to talk with Ivy even interjecting with questions of her own until the light began to dim and the train began to slow. Finally, it pulled to a stop and Marcus jumped up.

“Wow! Look at the time! We’d better change before we head out!” 

The three hastily pulled on their robes, Tom noticing as he did so that his and Ivy’s were obviously hand-me-downs. Marcus’s on the other hand were new and nicely black, no signs of wear-and-tear to be seen. Tom’s eyes glinted behind the other boy’s back with surpassed jealousy at the difference in their situations. No matter, he told himself, he would make sure that things would continue to change for himself and for Ivy. For the better. 

They filed out of their compartment and into the corridor of the train, following the older students as they did so. Tom noticed with some interest that the majority of the students had different colored pieces of their uniforms than he and Ivy had. The four colors that he noticed were red, green, yellow and blue. He supposed that they must correspond to the ‘Houses’ that the Marcus boy had mentioned. 

Tom stepped off the train first after being assured by the older students that he could leave his luggage on the train (“It’ll be taken care of”, one had said), and looked back to make sure Ivy was following them. The girl had always been small, and in a crowd like this she could easily be separated from him. 

As it turned out though, he didn’t have to worry. There was a large man who was calling all the first years to gather around him. Once he had collected them all, the man introduced himself as Ogg. They followed Ogg, turning after a moment to a different path from all the other students. They wrapped around a hill and were soon met with a wondrous sight. 

“Hogwarts.” Ivy breathed, her purple eyes luminous in the light of the lamps marking the path. 

For indeed, Hogwarts it was. The castle was massive, perched on top of a large hill and overlooking a lake, the lights in the windows danced on the surface of the water, the reflection creating an enchanting double-image. 

In that moment, Tom was struck with a feeling so great it seized at his chest. He stared at the structure and as he did so a single thought ran through his head: here was where he was meant to be. Here was where he belonged. Slowly he reached down and grasped Ivy’s hand in his, meeting her eyes and smiling before heading down the hill.

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present day

Harry was concentrating on his Quidditch plans, deep in thought, when Hermione threw herself down on the over-stuffed couch beside him with a startling wump.   
“I just can’t understand it!” She complained brown eyebrows furrowed in frustration. 

“What? You mean how someone can’t get any peace and quiet around here?” Harry said, slightly annoyed since her movement had caused him to mark up his latest play with his quill. 

“No,” She replied, completely disregarding his comment, “I can’t understand why I can’t find her?”

“Find who?” He asked, using a quick erasing spell to fix the excess quill marks. 

“Ivy Petros! I spend hours today in the library looking for her in the old Slytherin records. I couldn’t find her anywhere!” 

Now Harry was paying attention. “That doesn’t make sense. She was enrolled in Hogwarts, Dumbledore said she was!”

“But she isn’t in the records…unless…do you think You-Know-Who destroyed them?” Hermione sounded pained at the thought of anyone destroying any type of information or records. 

“…Maybe…but why?” Harry asked, thoroughly confused why Voldemort would go to any sort of trouble for anyone other than himself. 

“Why what?” Ron asked, newly returned through the portrait hole. 

“Why Hermione can’t find Ivy Petros in Slytherin.” Harry said absently, looking instead at the bulging pockets of Ron’s robes that suggested he had recently been to the kitchen. Ron saw him looking and quickly grabbed a pie to throw his way. 

“Well…maybe she isn’t in Slytherin?” Ron said thoughtfully, mouth partially full with pie. 

“Ron…that’s genius! Oh I’m so stupid; I didn’t even think she could be in any other Houses! I’m going back to the library, if I can’t find her now, then we should look more into the possibility of destroyed records. See you later!” 

“See you.” Said Ron as he took her place back on the couch. “Hmm…Harry do you really think Andrew and Jack could run that play with Ginny?”

The two friends leaned down at the play to have a closer look, totally unaware of the equal struggles of their female friend. 

©©©  
Hogwarts, Scotland September, 1938

Tom waited impatiently with the other first years at the front of the room that Dumbledore had called the Great Hall. Dumbledore had been waiting to meet the first years, his ugly suit replaced by flowing black robes, after they had made their way across the lake in their boats. He had explained that they were to be sorted into their Houses and briefly expressed his feelings of ‘good luck’ before the doors had opened. 

If it was possible for Tom to be any more impressed already, he was sure that his first sight of the Great Hall would have done it. The hall was enormous, and as he peered up at the ceiling he was stunned to see stars and constellations peeking out between the rafters. He looked ahead of them and saw four long tables stretching the length of the hall as well as one other table where it appeared that the other instructors were sitting. 

Dumbledore had entered the hall with them, but did not take the only empty seat available at the high table. Instead, he stood off to the side next to a three-legged stool with a rather ragged hat on top. Tom regarded the older man, warily. He found that he liked the man even less than he did at the orphanage. There was just something about him that rubbed Tom the wrong way and after years of practice with following his gut, Tom had learned to listen to it. 

“Tom.” Ivy’s low voice caught his attention and he glanced down at her. 

He followed her gaze and saw another man, even older than Dumbledore, stand up from his seat in the center of the head table and move to speak. 

“Welcome, my dear students to another year at Hogwarts. As most of you know, I am Headmaster Dippet and I am pleased to see you all again, and some for the very first time. Before we begin with our welcome feast and general announcements, we must witness the traditional sorting ceremony which will be led by Professor Dumbledore.” The man, Headmaster Dippet, inclined his head to the auburn-haired man and the ceremony commenced. 

Tom was somewhat taken-aback, for it seemed that all the ceremony entailed was placing the grubby hat on one’s head and the hat shouting one of the names of the four houses. Actually shouting. He watched, ever calculating and noting which first years were placed in which house. 

He noticed a red-haired boy get sent to Gryffindor, the table on the far right exploding with cheers as he took off the hat. He noticed a blonde-haired boy sent to Slytherin and the table to the far left exploding with cheers as he did the same. 

He thought back to what he heard from Marcus on the train. He found he had a slight inclination to be placed in the House of Slytherin, if nothing else than because their banner on the wall had a proud silver serpent slithering across the emerald green. 

“Petros, Ivy.” 

Tom snapped his head up, comprehending as he did so that Dumbledore had been the one to call Ivy’s name. He felt Ivy tense beside him and immediately knew that she was uncomfortable. She preferred smaller groups, usually just the two of them, and having to get up in front of all these people…that was definitely not something she had done before. 

Tom moved slightly as he realized that Ivy hadn’t stepped forward at the sound of her name. He lightly pushed her, meeting her eyes in the process. She smiled slightly, reassured by his touch, and stepped forward to the stool. Dumbledore smiled down at her and gently placed the sorting hat on her head. 

Tom waited. One heat beat, two, then, finally, the hat shouted “Ravenclaw!” and one of the tables in the middle cheered and screamed. Tom caught Ivy’s eye as she slid down from the stool, blushed, and made her way over to the table. 

Tom continued to wait, thinking as he did so that he would be placed in Ravenclaw. Afterall, it made sense. Marcus had said that Ravenclaw was for the ‘wise’ and for those who ‘valued knowledge’ and Tom was just smarter than Ivy, and he certainly valued knowledge. But then, something else flashed in his mind. Marcus had also said that Slytherin was home to the ‘cunning’. Tom wondered what if he and Ivy were placed into different houses? The thought had never occurred to him before. He and Ivy had always been together.

“Riddle, Tom.” 

His eyes flashed at the sound of his name, gritting his teeth against the possibility of an unfavorable sorting. He walked forward and sat down on the stool. He didn’t have to struggle to get to the seat like Ivy had as he was taller than her. He tensed slightly at the sudden presence of the hat on his head. 

“So…Tom Riddle.” Said a voice in his left ear. 

Tom practically jumped in alarm but held himself steady. He didn’t want to look foolish in front of the whole school. 

“Don’t be scared my boy, I’m only an old hat after all. Now, let’s see…plenty of intelligence here, yes indeed…clever too…you’ll know how to use what you learn here…and what’s that?”

What’s what? Tom thought to himself. 

“What’s that indeed…well, with a mind like…and blood like that, I think I know just where you need to go…”

Ravenclaw… Tom thought, somewhat mollified. He wouldn’t be separated from Ivy after all—

“Slytherin!” This time the voice was spoken aloud and it took Tom a second to realize that the table cheering him on was not the one where Ivy was sitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Thanks for giving this story a chance, I hope you like it! I am cross-published at Fanfiction.net and I am working hard to post all the current chapters on this website. 
> 
> I appreciate your time and if anyone would like to post a comment I would be more than happy to answer. Happy reading!


	4. Blood Ties

Chapter 4: Blood Ties   
Hogwarts, Scotland, September 1938

Ivy’s hands shook as she placed them in her lap. Tom isn’t in the same House as me. She thought, bewildered. She had listened with all her might on the train, attempting to discern what the boy (was his name Marcus?) meant by being ‘sorted’ into different Houses. 

It appeared that it meant that Tom and Ivy would be separated and they would both have to spend the majority of their time with strangers. For how long, it wasn’t clear. But Ivy didn’t like it. Things like that made her uncomfortable. Ivy tried to focus on what was going on in front of her, but large amounts of people made her nervous. Large amounts of people she didn’t know was worse. 

She was startled out of her thoughts by a light touch on her shoulder. She turned towards it to meet the eyes of another girl, about her age. 

“Hello, I’m Susan Woodson. I saw you on the train in the compartment with two boys? Looks like we were both placed into Ravenclaw.” The girl had nice blue eyes and she dimpled one the left side of her mouth when she smiled. 

Ivy introduced herself but was immediately on guard. In her experience it was the pretty girls who ended up being the cruelest ones. She made sure to keep the conversation nice and light, laughing politely at some points, nodding appropriately at others. 

Yes, it was always better to know as much about other people as you could without revealing as much about herself. Tom had taught her that. He had also told her that other people usually wanted to talk about themselves and their opinions more than anything. Both had been accurate points as far as she could tell. 

The rest of dinner went smoothly and she began to force herself to relax. Ivy was introduced to several other members of Ravenclaw house, each nicer than the last. It was a bit too much for Ivy; she was starting to become suspicious. How could so many people be so seemingly happy? There had to be a catch and she would find out what it was before it caught her. 

The Headmaster (Dippet?) stood up after everyone had finished eating and offered a few words including announcements regarding classes and rules. He seemed to be the type of old man that knew a great deal but only shared what he felt necessary for others to know. Short and to the point, Ivy thought.

Ivy wasn’t sure about him yet, she would need to gather more information. She had done her best to observe what she could of the first man who had come to see her and Tom, Professor Dumbledore. Tom and she had both agreed that he wasn’t someone to be trusted, but one to be watched. 

Instead they had agreed to be on their best behavior while at the school…at least until they could learn the best way to cover their tracks. Ivy had always made a point to do that with authority figures, for example, the head matron and other staff at the orphanage. If you could get on those people’s good sides it usually made life easier and they in turn would be less suspicious of you. 

Headmaster Dippet finished his announcements and they were all dismissed. An older student further down the Ravenclaw table with a silver badge pinned on his shirt beckoned all the first-year students to follow him. Ivy glanced towards the Slytherin table and saw Tom was pausing to meet her eyes. He nodded to her and mouthed ‘tomorrow’, before following his own silver-badged student down a side corridor. 

Ivy instantly relaxed. It wasn’t that she couldn’t do things without Tom, it was just, well, she had never wanted to. Ever since that time in the cave, several years ago, and again when she was being teased by others at the orphanage, she had felt like she had found the missing piece to her life. Another person, like her, with strange powers that had no explanation, she had felt an almost instant connection. Almost like a security blanket, Tom was always around. Ivy liked it that way. 

She turned and followed the rest of the students up a flight of stairs and promptly forgot her train of thought as she took in the rest of the castle. Flights upon flights of stairs, rows upon rows of portraits (and they moved!). Ivy found she was staring rather rudely around the entire way to their destination. She was so overwhelmed by the sights that she nearly forgot the path they had taken. 

The herd of students continued up and up until they appeared to be at the entrance to one of the highest towers in the castle. Ivy peered out a window and saw the light-reflected lake many feet below. She turned her attention back towards the front when the silver-badged boy spoke. 

“First-years this is the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower. Inside you will find your common room and your dormitories. Each year has their own dorm, further separated into boys and girls. Once you find your room you must locate your bed. You fill find that your belongings from the train have already been brought up. Now, please observe how to enter the dormitory.” 

The boy turned his back on the crowd of first-years to face something that Ivy couldn’t quite see. She jiggled around her classmates, having a harder time than most due to her smaller size. She finally wedged herself in-between two people and was just in time to hear a disembodied voice. 

“Take away the whole and some still remains. What is it??”

“The word ‘wholesome’.” The boy said promptly.

“Very good.” The voice said again. 

The boy continued through the door and beckoned the rest of the group to follow. 

As Ivy passed through the door she examined it and saw no handle or key-hole, only a bronze door-knocker in the shape of an eagle. She frowned in confusion, but continued forward. 

“As some of you may have seen, the bronze eagle that graces our dormitory door is the emblem of our house. As our main characteristic is wisdom, all you need do to enter our common room is answer a riddle correctly. The other Houses’ dorms offer passwords which are usually changed on a weekly basis. Ravenclaw alone has the honor of our riddles.” The boy had a smug look about that. 

“Before I forget, my name is Theodore Hensley and I am a fifth year student and currently a prefect of Ravenclaw. Please come to me or our other house prefects,” he nodded to a several other students who had also guided the short tour, “if you have any questions. Now, make sure you get a good night’s rest, we all have classes in the morning.” 

Hensle dismissed them, but not before his gaze seemed to linger a little longer on Ivy than she thought was usual. For a moment, the crowd of first-years seemed to mill around aimlessly for a moment, but the gradually dispersed, each going off in pairs or threes to look for their rooms. 

“Um, want to see what our room looks like?” Said a tentative voice. 

Ivy turned around to see the blue eyes of Susan, the girl Ivy had sat next to at dinner. 

“You mean, we all share a room?” Ivy asked nervously. She had done so at the orphanage, but many times she had chosen to either sleep in Tom’s room or some other area before the matrons had given up and given her a room to herself. 

“Yes, didn’t you know?” And she walked away a few steps up a staircase to the right, looking behind her once to see if Ivy was following her. 

She followed Susan up the staircase (how many floors did this castle have anyway?) and they followed the corridor passing several rooms. Ivy could read the plaque on one of the doors that said ‘Second Years’ and another that said ‘Third Years’. Finally, the last door’s plaque read, ‘First Years’ and the two of them entered. 

Ivy’s first impression of the room was that it was the nicest space she had ever seen. The walls, ceiling and floor were covered with various shades of blue. The beds in the dorm were constructed out of brass which gave the entire room a cheery glow. There were large fireplaces on each side of the room, three beds or six total on the left and right. Ivy’s bed looked warm and inviting. She found her truck and meager possessions in good order. No sooner had she sat down on the mattress that she felt her eyes droop. And it was no wonder. The day had been so full of new experiences, fears, and excitement, that Ivy was exhausted. 

“Do you want to go to bed now?” Susan asked kindly, and then stretched her arms high above her head. “Me too.”

Ivy could only nod and she stumbled into her pajamas and went right to sleep. 

©©©

Tom found that he couldn’t sleep. His brain just wouldn’t shut off. There was so much to think about, so much to wonder about, so much to theorize about. Sullenly he found himself wishing that Ivy were lying next to him…he would never tell her that her presence always allowed him to sleep soundly and tonight he missed it. Instead he grumbled to himself and directed his thoughts to reviewing the events of the last few hours including what had occurred once he had entered his new dormitory for the first time. 

Before he had left the Great Hall with the rest of his year-mates he had been sure to throw Ivy a little signal. No need for them to attract attention to themselves at this interval. They would talk the next day. Satisfied that she would be taken care of, he had faced forward and traipsed down several flights of stairs. 

His trip down to the Slytherin common-room from the Great Hall had been uneventful. It seemed that the room was located in one of the dungeons in the basement of the castle. It was the deepest and perhaps oldest part of Hogwarts. 

They had continued down a long corridor which Tom couldn’t help but notice was rather damp in some areas. He wrinkled his nose in distaste but stopped when a boy next to him had said,

“Father told me that the common room is special. It’s located under the lake, you know, the one we just sailed across before dinner? Anyway, he said that there is supposed to be a hidden passage, one only Salazar Slytherin himself knew about, that leads outside onto the grounds from our very common room? How superb is that?” 

The speaker had been the blonde boy that Tom had noticed being sorted into Slytherin when he was trying to figure out the whole ‘different Houses’ business. Tom had continued to listen to the boy prattle away about the uniqueness of their new home, while only believing about half of it, when they came to an abrupt stop. 

“Alright new-bloods, listen up.” The new speaker had appeared to be the boy with the silver badge that had ushered them all forward as soon as dinner ended. Tom had leaned closer and read that his badge said ‘prefect’. 

“This is the entrance to our common-room,” the boy had continued and gestured towards the wall in front of them, which Tom couldn’t help but notice was completely blank, “you enter with a password which is not to be shared with anyone outside of our House. The password this week is Parselmouth.” 

As soon as the boy had uttered the word, the wall had changed to reveal an entrance that had simply not been there before. Tom found that he had smiled slightly. The more he saw of magic, the more he wanted to know everything he could about it. He wanted to explore it, wield it…even own it, if he could. He had stepped forward with the rest of the crowd of awed first-years. 

He had looked around the common room and his eyes had been met with a great deal of stone and green. As he had continued his observations, he had seen that each corner, piece of furniture and light fixture had some kind of serpent intertwined into it. 

Tom had narrowed his eyes as his brain clicked several things into place. When Dumbledore had come to visit him and Ivy, Tom had mentioned his skills of speaking to snakes. Now, at Hogwarts, Tom had been sorted into, for lack of a better term, the ‘snake house’. He felt like there had to be some kind of connection he just wasn’t seeing. Something that sang to him, deep in his blood about the entire place, as if in the entire world, he belonged no-where else but in that very room. 

As he had pondered this, the Slytherin prefect was busy explaining various rules and expectations related to the common area. Finally, the older student had stopped pontificating and gestured for the students to find their way to their dorm room. Tom hadn’t shared a living space with another child for several years, ever since the matrons had…caught on to specific incidents. Not to mention the other orphans had been too scared to set foot in the same room as him without another adult. In fact besides Ivy, Tom had slept alone for the better part of the last three years. 

After arriving in his new dorm room which had been smartly marked on the outside door with a silver plaque designating the first year dorms, he had found that he had been pleased by the overall look and feel of the area. 

“So, what’s your name?” 

Tom had narrowed his eyes slightly, annoyed to be distracted by his train of thought and turned to look at the boy who had spoken. The words had been boldly orated by the blonde boy who had been talking outside in the corridor. 

“Tom Riddle. What’s yours?” He had arched his dark eyebrows subtly as a way to challenge him. 

“Abraxus Malfoy. This is Regus Lestrange, Thoros Nott, Alphard Black and Jaxus Avery.” He had nodded to all the rest of the boys in the room, seemingly knowing them all by name like they were old friends or something. And perhaps, Tom mused, they all were. 

Tom had noted that Malfoy had said the names this like he was stating titles, like Tom should know who they are. 

“Pleased to meet you.” Tom had said as he had eyed each one of the boys in turn. He had wanted to size up each of them. To figure out how he could use them to his own ends.   
“Same. Riddle, you said? Don’t think I’ve heard of that name before…who’re your parents?” Malfoy had continued. 

Tom had stiffened ever so slightly and had found he needed to hide the fact that the question had made him highly irritated. He had found it much too rude and direct given that he had known these boys for only a few minutes. But he hadn’t allowed it to show. Clearly there was something else or greater importance going on that he was unaware of given he hadn’t been raised by wizards. Instead, he decided to play for the sympathy card. Better these ones underestimate him until he could find out just what was going on. 

“…I don’t know, I grew up in an orphanage. My father died before I was born and my mother lived just long enough to name me.” He had said this softly, craftily drawing his eyebrows together into a pained expression, something that was effective, though also a complete fabrication. 

It worked. 

Malfoy visibly deflated from his air of bravado. “Ah…I see…I’m sorry to hear that. Well, seeing as you are in Slytherin you must be from a pure-blood family. We of course are all members of the sacred twenty-eight.”

Tom had done his best not to appear blank at that statement. 

It had been Malfoy’s turn to raise an eyebrow at Tom’s lack of response, but he then had brushed away his surprise and explained. He had explained the hierarchy of the wizarding world. He had started with Muggles on the bottom, described Muggle-borns as the next rung, Mud-Bloods after (Tom didn’t press him by asking for a definition of that word) and finally Pure-Bloods at the top. 

At that point Nott had stepped forward and explained with a great deal of pride that his father, Cantankerus Nott, had over the last few years successfully completed research that pointed to twenty-eight wizarding families who fit the class of ‘pure-blood’. 

The boys had continued to talk well into the rest of the evening before finally falling asleep after a warning from the prefect. The conversation had been so very interesting for Tom…he had found that he needed to know more about the so-called wizarding hierarchy. 

Long after the other boys had slowed their breathing, Tom had found he couldn’t stand to even close one eye. He had found instead that the more he learned about the wizarding world and magic, the more he found he knew less and less about himself. 

Who were his parents?

Why did they die and leave him alone if they had magic at their disposal? 

Finally only able to get to sleep somewhere in the small hours of the morning Tom had come up with a plan: his first order of business would be to find out his lineage and consequently, just where he fit in the magical world-ladder.

His last coherent thought was that he had to tell Ivy about this as soon as he could. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present day

“She’s in Ravenclaw!” Hermione’s voice, shrill from excitement, cut through the early morning air of the Great Hall. 

“Ow…who’s in where now?” Ron asked as he paused in mid eye-rub to look at her. 

“Ivy Petros! You were right Ron; she was sorted into another House.” 

“…are you sure Hermione? It doesn’t strike me as normal for Voldemort to hang around with someone other than his future Death Eaters.” Harry managed through a mouth-full of buttered toast. 

“I’m sure and here’s proof.” She slammed down a heavily bound book that read ‘Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Prefect and Head Student Records’. It seemed the book held records of every student who ever assumed those roles as far back as the last thousand years. Hermione had the list open and tabbed to several years in the 1940’s.   
Harry looked closer and blinked a few times. 

Under the list of Prefects for 1942:  
Slytherin: Tom Riddle, Olive Hornby   
Hufflepuff: Marcus Burbage, Jewel Tenor   
Gryffindor: John Weasley, Margret Abbott   
Ravenclaw: Loe Nix, Ivy Petros  
Then again for the list of Head Boy and Head Girl in 1944:  
Tom Riddle and Ivy Petros 

Behind him Ron whistled. “Who would have thought that You-Know-Who was a model student?” 

“Who would have thought that his closest supporter was a girl from Ravenclaw?” Harry countered. “Hermione, do you think you could find out anything else about that girl?” 

Hogwarts, Scotland, October, 1938

The first month of classes and Tom’s new life passed by in a blur of magical theory, application and a steep learning curve. He found that while he and Ivy were ahead of most of their peers in actual magical application and spell-casting, they still lacked quite a bit of knowledge about the magical world itself. 

Tom did what he could to minimize his mistakes regarding this lack of knowledge. He had no wish to draw attention to himself in that aspect. Ivy, if possible, had it even worse. It seemed that while she excelled academically, she failed socially though Tom reflected that it wasn’t much of a surprise given her temperament and personality. However, what made it especially hard was that there wasn’t a lot of time for the two to spend together. 

They shared a few classes and managed to eat lunch and dinner with one another at least a few times a week, but Tom had to admit that the way things were segregated between houses annoyed him. But only when it came to Ivy. He found that the less time he had with her, the more irritable be became. 

Ivy for her part seemed to sense this and did her best to check in with him discreetly at least a few times a day. That seemed to slightly quell his feelings…again none of this was verbalized. 

With Ivy, Tom had never had to explain. She just understood. 

Unlike some other students he could mention. 

Those other students in question, Malfoy and company, seemed to flock around him like little ducklings. It had started once they could see how gifted he was, not that Tom was shocked. It felt right to have others finally acknowledge his talents. It felt good to have teachers be pleasantly surprised at first, then obviously enjoy giving him harder and harder spells to perform. 

Finally, the first grade reports came back right before Halloween and the top two slots were given to Tom with Ivy a close second; the two were no more than a point apart.   
Tom took a moment after those results to flash one of his true smiles. The one that he knew not to let others see. The one he could only let one person see. 

And she smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I have quite a few other chapters written so I will do my best to post them all ASAP. Comments and kudos are appreciated!


	5. The Holidays

Chapter 5: The Holidays 

Hogwarts, Scotland May 1939

For Ivy the first year at Hogwarts went by like a beautiful dream. It was a dream filled with her favorite things: learning, books, and quiet. Well, it wasn’t always quiet, but she found that she didn’t mind the noise as much as she did when she was at the orphanage. 

The learning and the books though, that had been wonderful. 

In fact, the only dark cloud that had sullied the experience even slightly was the constant glimpses she had of Theodore Hensley, the fifth year Prefect. The boy who had given Ivy a lingering look on her first night at Hogwarts seemed to have some kind of fascination with her. 

At first she had found it to be helpful and kind of the older boy, but then Tom had noticed. And once Tom noticed, it became downright dangerous. It seemed that the Prefect would seek her out intentionally. Giving her pointers here, directions there, offering a slow smile every few words. It seemed to all others that he was being the helpful upperclassman he had been chosen to be. 

But not as far as Tom was concerned. 

“What does he want?” Her dark-haired friend had hissed in a low voice sometime after the winter holidays as the two were studying together in the library.   
“I don’t think he wants anything.” Ivy had answered, distracted as she looked up basic poison antidotes. 

“Ivy…he wants something. They always want something.” His tone had chastised her a little. But Tom could always do that. For all the pair had in common, they had one glaring difference: Tom wanted to control others, while Ivy wanted to ignore them. To Ivy, other people had always been nothing more than a nuisance, a distraction, or a source of pain. Tom had always been the sole exception on that list. 

Whereas Ivy tolerated the presence of others, Tom wanted others to notice him and grovel at his feet. However in this situation, it had seemed that Tom wanted the older boy gone from Ivy’s life. She could see that the prospect of the older boy’s attentions made Tom nervous, and when he became nervous he usually became angry. 

“Well, what do you think he wants?” Ivy had answered, closing her potions textbook and giving him her full attention. As she had done so, she noticed when Tom had locked eyes with her he seemed momentarily at a loss for words. He continued to look at her and she could see his throat bob as he swallowed what he had been about to say several times.   
“…I think he wants you.” He had said those words carefully, his dark eyes flashing with hidden anger, his jealousy hitting close to the surface. 

Ivy had kept Tom’s eyes locked on hers. She had studied him for a long moment, taking his words and turning them over in her mind. It hadn’t been the first time that Tom had showed his feelings related to Ivy spending time with others, or at the first time that others wanted to spend time with Ivy. Like so many of the inanimate objects that Tom had collected, Ivy was similar in that she was ‘his’. And Tom had never been a person to share his toys, especially with someone who appeared to want a turn quite badly. 

But for Ivy, what others wanted hadn’t mattered for a long time, not since before she came to the orphanage. No, too many others had failed her, left her alone, a young child to fend for herself. For so long the world had been simply ‘Others’ and ‘Ivy’. Now, there was simply ‘Others’ and ‘Tom’. 

Ivy had reached slowly across the narrow desk and twined her delicate fingers in-between Tom’s long and pale ones. His dark eyes had left hers and widened at the contact. Ivy knew that Tom disliked all physical touch, more so when it hadn’t been expecting it. But he never minded Ivy’s. In fact, it was the only touch that he seemed to enjoy. 

“I don’t care what other people want.” She had said, and at her words she could see Tom visibly relax. He hadn’t brought up the subject again, but she could see the subtle effect of her words. Tom from that moment on had allowed her brief interactions with Hensley to continue, but it didn’t surprise her that wherever she went in the castle, a flash of green and black weren’t too far out of reach. 

Then suddenly, it was the end of the second term. At the end of their first year, Ivy and Tom were tied for the highest score amongst the first years. Ivy couldn’t hide the pride she felt at surpassing almost everyone else in their year, even children who had grown up as wizards. 

However, her dream came to an abrupt end when Tom had let her know that they wouldn’t be permitted to spend the summer at the castle. 

“…Mav I don’t want to go back.” She had whispered to him sadly across the study table that they used in the library, the table that had become ‘their’ table. 

At the use of her pet name, Tom’s eyes had flicked upwards to meet hers, taking in the full core of her distress. It was a feeling she knew that he also shared. 

“I know, it’s my last choice as well, but Professor Dippet told me that students were never permitted to spend the summer at the castle…even if it’s the two best students in the year.” He said this last part without a shred of modesty. But that was Tom, simply stating a fact. 

“Then…we have to spend the entire summer at the orphanage?” She asked, voice devoid of emotion so as not to allow herself to feel the panic of the moment. 

“…not the entire summer.” Tom replied quietly. “I have been speaking with Abraxus and Alphard…both of them have been…sympathetic,” he said it carefully and Ivy knew that Tom had simply orchestrated them to feel that way, “and they have both offered for us to visit over the summer. We are able to spend several weeks at both estates.” 

“Me too?” Ivy was unsure, not because she felt that they didn’t like her, but because there was an unspoken rule around Hogwarts that Slytherin students weren’t supposed to be too friendly with the other Houses. 

Tom however, caught on to the hidden meaning behind her question. “I have made it clear that where I go, you go. They have understood and the invitation had been extended to you. And besides, you are talented and smart; there would be no reason why you would be a problem to explain to their parents.” He said this offhandedly as though Ivy should have known the answer to her question. 

Such it had been the way with Tom and his year-mates. Ivy was not unfamiliar with the pattern. It was something that Tom had been doing for years. He was a collector. He collected things that he found to be valuable, interesting, or useful. If something, or someone, wasn’t one of those three things, he discarded it or never sought to acquire it in the first place. 

Ivy took comfort that so far, she was the only thing that Tom had collected that seemed to fit all three of those categories. She knew that the other students that he ‘pretended’ to befriend were mostly in the Useful category…maybe one of two making their way into Valuable given enough time…but they would never be Interesting. 

Tom had been working hard all year to broaden his collection. He had confided in Ivy that his usual tactics of placing fear in the hearts of others as he had done at the orphanage wouldn’t work at Hogwarts. Instead he had had to rely on his charm, good-looks and skill in the magical arts, and according to him it had all fallen exactly into place. All he needed to seal the deal was to find the missing piece. 

“Now that that’s settled, how are we doing on our research?” Tom’s voice shook Ivy from her thoughts. 

“Ah, well I have been combing through all of the records of ancestry…but so far I haven’t been able to find anything on Riddle.” She replied her brown eyebrows furrowed in mild frustration. 

“That can’t be right…there must be something we are missing.” Tom said with more frustration that Ivy had shown. 

For the last several months, the two had shifted their focus from mastering what they could of wizarding culture to discovering their respective ancestries. Tom had told Ivy about the idea of the ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight” as soon as he could at the beginning of the school year. It hadn’t taken long for them to discover that like the Muggle world; even the Wizarding world was run by families with the right blood and right connection. 

For Tom, this was even more important since he was in Slytherin, the house famous for its pure-blood status. Ivy’s house, Ravenclaw also was not exempt from this undercurrent of power, though it was much less obvious. 

It seemed that the Twenty-Eight were as close as one could get to actual royalty in their new world and Tom was determined to find out just where he and Ivy fell. Therefore once they had established a foundation of cultural understanding, Tom had felt it was safe to devote time to researching their own lines. 

It turned out that Petros was a magical name, though not as prestigious as one of the Twenty-Eight. Ivy had found out that through her father’s line she was related to both the Potters and the Longbottoms. Of course this discovery had been dangerous as it had raised many questions for Tom as to why she had been moved to a Muggle orphanage. Ivy had chosen to play dumb stating that she couldn’t remember anything that had come before her time at the orphanage. 

It had barely worked. 

Tom had accepted her excuse for the time-being, being so absorbed in his own research, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide the truth from him for long. She felt guilty over it. It was the only thing she had ever kept from him, but she had seen Tom angry before…she didn’t want to see it again. 

“What would we have missed?” Ivy wondered aloud. She glanced outside the library window, the tops of the Quidditch pitch just barely in sight. She had found against all odds that she really loved the game. She went to every match, excited beyond all accounts of the prospect of flight. She felt that if she would ride a broom that no matter the situation, she could always run from danger. She saw students milling around the grounds, bathed in bright sunlight on the beautiful Sunday afternoon. She saw an older Ravenclaw student she had exchanged words with a few times, a pretty girl with black hair and striking black eyes. She had looked a little like Tom…

“That’s it.” She breathed softly. 

Tom looked up from their latest dusty volume, one slender brow arched up quizzically, not even needing to ask her what she meant.

“We’ve been looking on the wrong side…not your father’s, we would have found him already…but what about your mother’s?” 

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present day

Harry took a moment to ponder the knowledge he had gained so far that term. He had visited Dumbledore’s office twice so far to look at the memories the older wizard had retrieved. The most recent visit had allowed him to take a look at who Tom Riddle was as a boy, his mysterious attachment to the girl, Ivy Petros, and to speculate as to how the boy would become Lord Voldemort. 

The visit before that, however, had shown a memory even older but, according to Dumbledore, no less important. The memory had been that of a Bob Ogden, a ministry worker who had visited the house of Voldemort’s mother, Merope Gaunt. He had seen how Merope, a witch, had been tormented by her brother and father and undergone quite a bit of abuse over the discovery of her infatuation with Tom Riddle senior, a Muggle from the neighboring town. 

Dumbledore had explained how Merope had most likely charmed Tom Riddle senior into falling in love with her by means of a love potion and causing him to take her away after her brother and father had been sent to Azkaban. 

However, despite all the new information regarding the past of his greatest enemy, Harry couldn’t help but focus on one thing in particular: the ring that had been shown on the hand of Marvolo Gaunt. 

The ring that Dumbledore himself had been wearing since the start of the year. Harry hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of it. 

“Sir,” said Harry, staring at it. “That ring—”

“Yes?” said Dumbledore. 

“You were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn that night.”

“So I was,” Dumbledore agreed. 

“But isn’t it…sir isn’t it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?”

Dumbledore bowed his head, “The very same.”

“But how come—? Have you always had it?” 

“No I acquired it very recently,” said Dumbledore. “A few days before I came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle’s, in fact.” 

“That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?” 

“Around that time, yes, Harry.” 

But try as he might, Harry had so far been completely unsuccessful at getting the Professor to give him any more information than that. He had been left on his own since their last meeting, only researching what he could with the help of Ron and Hermione. 

As Harry took a few moments to turn all the information over in his mind he found that he still couldn’t make sense of it all. Try as he might, there was still a missing piece, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it all meant. 

Outside London, England July 1939

Tom curled his lip upwards in stark satisfaction. This is how it should be, he thought as he and Ivy made their way up the steps to Malfoy Manor. True to their word, Abraxus and Alaphard had come through for them admirably that summer. 

Looking back on it now, the first few weeks he and Ivy had been forced to spend at the orphanage were like a cruel dream that could be easily cleared away. Because, soon enough, they were off visiting Alaphard for the last two weeks of June and the first week of July and now they were to spend the rest of the Holiday at Abraxus’s estate before making the trip to King’s Cross Station with the Malfoy family. 

Ivy trailed behind him, holding on her to Hogwarts trunk as the two made their way to the front door. Before they could even knock the door swung open to reveal the most hideous creature that Tom had ever seen. 

“Hello sir and miss, welcome to Malfoy Manor. Please come in and Young Master will meet you shortly.” It bobbed its disproportionate head and led the two visitors to a chamber off to one side. 

The thing was, as Tom had learned while visiting the House of Black, a House Elf. The Black’s had one as well, though Tom was also amused and intrigued to find that when one died they would have their head stuffed and mounted onto the wall. It had made Ivy quite sick but had entertained him on several levels. 

He and Ivy took their seats in the lavishly decorated room and the House Elf snapped two long and bony fingers causing their trunks to disappear. Tom jumped slightly before reminding himself that House Elves too had their own brand of magic, a fact that he couldn’t deny irked him. It made him feel frustrated that such lesser creatures could also command magic. But he forced himself to relax as he reminded himself that he had only been a resident in his new world for less than a year. There were still many things to get used to. 

“Ah, Tom and Ms. Petros glad you found the place alright.” Said a drawling voice behind Tom. 

“Abraxus, how good of you to allow us the visit.” Tom smiled falsely at the blonde boy. 

Abraxus’s smirk faltered ever-so-slightly, still on-guard around Tom. “What else should one do for friends? After all, the summer Holidays as so boring without company.”   
“Thanks for having us.” Ivy echoed, probably the only genuine statement between the three of them. 

Abraxus’s eyes softened as he turned to look at Ivy and he bowed slightly. “The pleasure is mine. I have been looking forward to having you. Alphard told me that it was a very…enlightening visit.” His grey eyes shifted back to Tom as he said the last few words. 

Tom smiled slightly. 

He had waited until the perfect moment to place his missing piece in the puzzle. He had taken Ivy’s suggestion, as much as he had hated the prospect, and conducted research into his mother’s side of the family. Merope Gaunt, as he found out was the daughter of Marvolo Gaunt, one of the families listed in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Finally, after years of wondering just who he was, Tom had found actual proof that he was important, that he was special. More special, it would turn out, than any other member of the Slytherin House.   
After coming to that realization at the end of last term, Tom had sat on the information. He bided his time before he chose the correct moment to insert the information, innocently, slyly into conversation with Alphard’s father, Pollux Black. It had been…delightful to witness the head of the proud Ancient and Most Noble House of Black’s face turn slack with disbelief. The man had eyed Tom with suspicion at first then awe as Tom presented irrefutable proof of his lineage. 

He had used his gift of Parseltongue. 

That in itself had been enough not only to tie him to Slytherin House, but had led the rest of the Blacks to accept him without question. Alphard included.   
And it was only a matter of time before he included the rest of the prominent families into his net, the Malfoys being those next on his list. 

“Well! Enough idle chat let me show you both around, shall I?” Abraxus pushed himself away from the wall and beckoned the two to follow. 

The rest of the afternoon was passed pleasantly enough touring the house and grounds. Tom noted that the Manor was a bit more to his liking that the Black’s townhouse which resided in London proper. He enjoyed being away from the bustle and hustle of the city that housed mostly non-magic folk. 

They finally retired inside for dinner where the true test of the evening would begin. 

“You must be Tom Riddle…and Ivy Petros…Abraxus has told me so much about you.” Heracles Malfoy said, his voice rumbling deep into his chest. 

“Yes sir, it’s an honor to meet you as well as to be invited into your beautiful house.” Tom said smoothly, pushing charm hard into every word. 

The older man’s face softened at the praise, and he turned his appraising eye to Ivy. “And you my dear…Abraxus tells me that you are distantly related to both the Longbottoms and the Potters? That’s quite a lineage. He also tells me you are in Ravenclaw and currently beating him in every subject.” 

“Ah! Yes sir, through my mother’s side by the Longbottoms and my father’s side by the Potters.” Ivy had added that fib at Tom’s instruction, knowing of course that she would have more advantage as a Pure Blood. 

He, Tom, of course did not mention his father’s side of the family when he was with the Blacks, and he would do the same as well. The Gaunt lineage was so much a shock that he was playing on the fact that these Pure Bloods wouldn’t even think to ask. 

“And the part about your marks?” The Mr. Malfoy continued in his line of questioning, not unkindly, his amusement clear in his tone.

“…yes sir.” Ivy said stiffly, clearly uncomfortable. 

Tom had to stop himself from drawing closer to Ivy throughout the conversation. It wouldn’t due to allow others to see his desire to ensure that his…things…were safe. 

“Excellent! That should give my boy the push he needs. Can’t have him lazing about at school. And you Tom, he tells me that your marks are on par with Miss Petros here. Come and tell me all about it.” 

And that was exactly what they did. 

If fact, so engrossed were they in their topics of school performance, that an opportunity for Tom to weave his web didn’t come until dessert. 

“Well now, we have clarified Miss Petros’s family lineage, but tell me Tom, how about your family?” 

“Sadly sir, both my parents and Ivy’s are dead. In fact we were raised together in the same orphanage.” 

At his admission he sensed Ivy tense besides him. It was unusual that Tom brought up anything to do with where they grew up into conversation with wizards. But in this instance, Tom was willing to do anything to achieve his ends. 

“Ah…so sorry to hear that… then I don’t suppose you would know—”

“However Ivy and myself have taken up the task of finding out what we can about our magical roots. As Ivy said she discovered that she is actually a pure blood…myself on the other hand…tell me, Mr. Malfoy, are you familiar with the name Marvolo?” 

Mr. Malfoy’s response was tightly controlled but Tom could see he had struck up the older wizard’s curiosity. 

“Of course, I once met a man with that name; I believe it was Marvolo Gaunt.” He said carefully, sipping water from his glass as he did so. 

“Ah well…then you must have met my grandfather.”

Hogwarts, Scotland September 1939

Tom’s plans were progressing just as he would have wished. The rest of the summer had proven that his sowing of the proverbial ancestry seeds had come to flower. Since he had revealed his Gaunt bloodline to both Black and Malfoy houses, the rest of his year-mates in Slytherin seemed to have fallen into place. 

The first indication that this was the case was on the train ride back to Hogwarts for his second year. He and Ivy were shocked to find that their compartment, while the year before had only housed three students, this year was packed to the brim. He looked around, surveying his growing collection. 

He viewed the members of the compartment, each student lounging back, enjoying the journey as one would view a chessboard. He, of course, was the King. He glanced to his right and his eyes lighted on Ivy, the top of her glossy brown hair the only thing visible as her nose was firmly stuck in her copy of Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2, she would always be his Queen. 

Seated across from them were his knights and one of his castles: Alphard and Abraxus and of course Thoros Nott, respectively. 

Seated on the floor of the cabin (Tom’s top lip almost curled up in response to this irony) were seated his current pawns, Avery and Lestrange. The two were not the brightest candles in the common room, so to say, but Tom had a feeling that they would indeed serve his purposes. 

Finally, and Tom admitted, surprisingly, his gaze touched on the last person in the compartment. A girl named Susan Woodson. Apparently this girl was one of Ivy’s year mates in Ravenclaw and though Tom had been loathed to share Ivy’s time, the girl had surprised him with complex knowledge of forbidden spells. Apparently her grandmother was high up in the Ministry for Magic because no second year should know so much about that he believed were called the Unforgivable Curses. He appraised the other girl silently. Yes, he thought she would do nicely as his rook. 

“Tom, are you listening?” Ivy’s voice, clear and content, broke into his thoughts. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” Tom asked his companion, the one whom he trusted above all else. 

“I said what do you think about the Chamber of Secrets?” Her violet eyes, searching his dark ones. 

Tom softened his gaze as he looked upon Ivy. Her question had been quiet, unheard against the din that the Slytherin boys were making. He slowly reached out one of his pale hands and lightly brushed a strand of hair from Ivy’s face. He watched in fascination as a pale pink flush began to grow across her cheekbones. Tom sat back in satisfaction. He had found that over the last few months he could elicit that reaction from her and he quite enjoyed it. 

“I think…we should find out more.”


	6. Growing Ambition

Chapter 6: Growing Ambition

Hogwarts, Scotland, October 1939

Tom watched the vast slope of the Quidditch pitch with mild disapproval. That morning marked the annual House Quidditch team tryouts. He of course had been to a several games the year before and discovered that he found the sport to be fairly interesting, but not really being one to prefer brawn over brains, he had never attached to it with the fascination that Ivy had seemed to. 

Tom had to admit that Ivy’s interest in the wizarding sport surprised him greatly, though he supposed that the bloody orphanage didn’t really offer much in the way of ‘enrichment’ and ‘broadening or horizons’. But her interest had persisted and she had proceeded to drag him to games whenever she could, even attending one game with several other Ravenclaw students in her year when he had refused in favor of studying.

He hadn’t cared so much at the time, but when she had returned from the experience, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed from the cold, Tom had found he attended every game with her after. 

When she had asked him if she could go watch the Quidditch tryouts for Ravenclaw and for Slytherin, he had indulged her. In the end he watched her more than the fools flying around on bewitched twigs fifty feet off the ground. Ivy it seemed was enchanted by the thought of riding a broom. During their flying lessons the year before Ivy had done quite well. She took to the air like a bird, zipping around quite comfortably while most of the others either rolled around in the grass or merely hovered several feet off the ground.   
“Oh look Tom, Fredericks is going next.” Her fingers pointed out a large auburn-haired boy, whom he believed to be a fourth-year Ravenclaw, as he took his place in front of the enormous Keeper’s hoops. 

The two of them watched, Ivy leaning slightly against him, too fascinated by the scene before them to be bothered by what others might think about a boy and a girl sitting so close together. 

So far their second year was going off without a hitch. Both of them were once again at the top of their classes, Ivy slightly ahead in charms while Tom was pulling ahead of her in potions, and both of them were working to solidify themselves with the rest of the pure blood students in their respective Houses. In fact, there seemed to be nothing to worry about.

After successfully coming to that conclusion, Tom allowed himself a few moments of luxury and found himself pressing into the warm of Ivy’s side. The two of them stayed like that until the tryouts were ended and together they walked back to the castle. 

As they did so Tom listened to Ivy talk excitedly about the positions and game play along with her thoughts about the players who showed up for the try-outs. 

“Oy! Petros! Can I have a word?” The voice that hailed them immediately shattered Tom’s good mood. It belonged to the now sixth-year fool, Theodore Hensley. 

“Oh, sure Hensley.” Ivy replied, shooting a curious look at the older student before glancing briefly at Tom. “Would you wait a moment?” She asked, her hand straying for a few seconds on the worn sleeves of his hand-me-down robe. 

“Only a moment.” Tom answered casually, but indicating at the same time that it wasn’t a request. He knew Ivy wouldn’t keep him long but he still wanted her to be aware of his annoyance. 

Ivy nodded and walked the few feet that separated the two of them from the sixth-year. Tom watched their conversation idly. He was careful never to let the older student know about his down-right dislike for his seemingly constant fascination for Ivy. Tom had to admit that it was petty of him, but then again he never had let others play with his things, no matter how much older they were than him. Still, he had to keep up appearances, if he wanted to make his plan work. 

And just what was his plan? Ivy had asked him that very question over the summer. She wanted to know just want that plan entailed, what Tom wanted to achieve, and of course…how she could help him do it. He had laughed a little at her expense at that time, the idea that Ivy would do anything else other than help him had simply never occurred to him. She was and always would be central to his ideals and schemes. 

Because of that, he had naturally let her in on them. 

He had explained that since they had come from the Muggle world and entered the Wizarding world, he had no intention to ever return to their previous lives other than their tortuous but mandatory, return to the Muggle world orphanage over the summer holidays. Tom had explained that he simply wanted to ensure that neither of them would have to leave their new lives again. He would carve out a place for them in this world, in their world. He would make it so that they were never in danger of being adrift again. He would ensure that they would succeed in their new lives, together. 

Ivy had been more than satisfied with his answer and as always, had never been too concerned with the details of how they would achieve this end. Even at the orphanage Ivy hadn’t been one to shy away from some of the darker things Tom would suggest and would usually participate. In fact, the only time Tom had ever seen her become upset over outright cruelty was over the mounted heads of the House Elves in the House of Black. But that suited Tom just fine. He had no desire to exert his control over dumb or lesser creatures meaninglessly; it was humans that he was aiming to control. 

“I’m back, ready for lunch?” Ivy’s thoughts once more broke into his thoughts that morning and he turned to regard her. 

“What did Hensley want?” He watched the older boy walk away and had to retrain himself from cursing him while his back was turned.

“Oh, he wanted to get my opinion of the tryouts.”

“…did he?” Tom didn’t bother to hide the disdain in his voice. 

“Yeah, he knows that I like Quidditch and I think he was just being friendly.” 

“’Friendly?’” He was incredulous at what Ivy, usually so smart, so quick, was obviously missing. 

“Yes, I told you before I don’t think he wants anything; he’s just being a good upperclassman.” She looked at him with confusion and Tom had to stop himself from raising his voice. 

“Ivy…they always want something. There is no way that he simply wanted to get your opinion about Quidditch.” Tom’s voice was low and strained as he attempted to reason with the witch before him. 

Ivy blinked at him and a quick look of hurt seemed to dash across her features which caused Tom’s stomach to churn unpleasantly. He wasn’t trying to hurt Ivy’s feelings…he simply wanted to let her know that others weren’t permitted to be ‘friendly’ with things that were his.

“Why wouldn’t he want my opinion about Quidditch? I have an interest in the sport and I’ve read quite a few books on the subject.” 

Tom cursed his lack of tact in this area. “I don’t mean that you wouldn’t be a good person to ask, I think he was using it as an excuse to talk to you.” He said bluntly.   
“I don’t—”

“Never mind, just don’t talk to him again.” Tom said irritably, his bad mood now fully showing despite his attempts to smooth it away. He really didn’t feel like explaining this any further. If there was one thing Tom truly disliked it was dealing with outright stupidity. It was a rare word that he would apply to Ivy, but in this case he thought it fit quite well. After all, he could practically see the kind of interest that the other student held in her. Why couldn’t she?

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes and began to walk swiftly towards the Great Hall. He left Ivy behind quickly as his long stride far out stripped her short legs. 

Ivy caught up with him eventually, but chose not to respond. If Tom had been looking at her, he would see a brief look of dawning understanding then fear cross her features. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, December 1939

Tom paused in his research to rub his tired eyes. He decided to take a quick stretch break, even pacing a bit around their library study table before returning to the dusty old tome that he was currently perusing. 

“Tired?” 

He looked up at Ivy’s smiling face, her own eyes red from their constant strain of reading faded ink. 

“Yeah, do you want to call it a night? We have all day tomorrow to continue the research.” 

“Well, not all day, right? After all it’s your birthday.” She grinned at him. 

His lips did a little dance that might have passed for a smile at the thought of his thirteenth birthday. Birthdays had never before held any meaning for him other than that of looming adulthood. Before he had come to Hogwarts they had meant that he was another year closer to being kicked out of the orphanage, drafted into the war, or some other grim destiny. 

Now, they seemed to hold a world of possibility and even some semblance of celebration. He had always found it ironic that his birthday was the last day of the year. It was a day that held a magic of its own with regard to the idea of new beginnings. 

“I suppose.” He answered off-handedly, his eyes gazing one final time over the variety of books the two had collected over the course of their Holiday break. 

Tom bid Ivy goodnight after escorting her back to Ravenclaw Tower and walked by himself the rest of the way towards the Slytherin common room. He paused just long enough to utter the password (Asperge) before entering. 

“Evening, Riddle.” Said Abraxus. 

Tom looked up from his footsteps to see the speaker along with Alphard and Thoros. The three second-years had decided to stay at Hogwarts over the break along with Tom and Ivy. Oddly enough, it wasn’t at Tom’s request and he personally couldn’t have cared less about seeing them since he didn’t need to return to the orphanage between the terms. He had no need of them, but at the same time their presence wasn’t unwelcome. 

Tom decided to join the other three. 

He saw, as he sat down, that Alphard was engaged in a brutal slaughter of Thoros’ wizard chess set. He watched with cold amusement as Al directed his knight to viciously slay one of the other boy’s pawns. 

“How was your research?” Abraxus said conversationally as he and Tom continued to watch the game play out.

Tom took a moment to regard the blond-haired boy. Abraxus was of average height for their year, naturally still shorter than Tom, but his pale complexion and grey glittering eyes gave one the impression that he could be much older than he actually was. He seemed to give off an air of sophistication which the other boy’s in Tom’s group shrugged off whenever they thought it prudent, like it was a burden. Only Abraxus wore it proudly. 

“I believe we are making progress towards understanding the potion formula.” Tom said cryptically. 

Abraxus nodded in understanding. They had decided to keep any discussion of the Chamber a secret between Tom, Ivy, and Abraxus. 

Over the summer holidays, after Tom had set his pieces into motion with Abraxus’s father, the younger Malfoy had been instructed by the elder to include Tom in on the family myth. Abraxus had explained about the Chamber of Secrets. Since Tom had proven himself to be a direct descendent of Salazar Slytherin by way of not just his gift of Parseltongue, but also proving his grandfather to be Marvolo Gaunt, a known descendent of the Hogwarts Founder, The Malfoys had made sure to ‘take him under their wing’ so to speak. 

As a result, Abraxus had provided Tom with an excess of information regarding Slytherin lore and magical education, that being the Darker Arts. One of those stories happened to be the Chamber of Secrets. 

“It’s an old tale, you know. No one actually knows if it truly exists or not, though here have been countless searches around the castle. All the founders were powerful witches and wizards, some of the most talented and brilliant of all. Each one banded together to create Hogwarts, each poured their own skill and knowledge into every brick and stone. Each one was allowed to make his or her own House and common room. And legend has it, that all but one stopped there. Slytherin was rumored to have gone further, further than the other three and made a second room, one separate from the common room. Legend also has it that only Slytherin, or those who he would deem as worthy would be permitted to enter.” 

“And how would he determine worthiness?” Tom had asked, absolutely captivated by the tale. 

“Well, no-one knows for sure, but people have their suspicions.” Abraxus had paused for dramatic effect at that moment, ensuring he had Tom and Ivy’s full attention, “But since Slytherin House is best known for having a preference for pure-blood members…”

“…Only a pure-blood or direct descendent would be deemed worthy.” Tom had finished softly. 

Abraxus had leaned back into his wing-backed chair with satisfaction. “Exactly.” 

“And what is the purpose of this Chamber?” Ivy had asked, Tom immediately pleased, as usual with her line of questioning.

“…Well…to cleanse the school of all Mudbloods, naturally.” 

Hogwarts, Scotland, February 1940

Ivy was concentrating quite hard at perfecting her freezing spell when a jubilant voice broke her attentiveness. The water that she had been working with had just begun to turn solid, decided to turn distinctly room-temperature instead. 

“Ms. Petros! So lovely to see you.” 

Ivy looked up from her borrowed copy of Standard Book of Spells: Grade Three to see Professor Slughorn walking towards her. She was using the book due to the fact that she had already mastered everything from her copy of the Standard Book of Spells: Grade Two. 

“Yes, sir. What can I help you with?” She asked him politely while having to hide her feelings of annoyance at the distraction so as not to appear rude towards the rotund man.   
“Well my dear I wanted to let you know that I have been keeping a close eye on you.” He winked at her conspiratorially. 

“…You have?” Ivy asked, suddenly concerned that perhaps she had broken some rule that she had been unaware of. 

“Yes indeed! And you should know that I have been quite impressed with your aptitude, though of course it has only been a hair’s width apart from Mr. Riddle’s here.” The potions professor stepped aside to reveal Tom standing behind him. 

He met her gaze and raised his eyebrows slightly as if to say just go with it. 

“Oh, yes sir.” Ivy confirmed, mystified. “Thank you for your consideration.”

“Of course, of course. Anyway,” He reached his arm around Tom’s shoulders and Ivy saw him stiffen instantly at the contact, though Professor Slughorn appeared not to have noticed, “I wanted to take this chance while you are both here, and out of class, to invite you to a little gathering I chaperone.” 

“Ivy, Professor Slughorn has told me that it is a sort of mentorship program where the Professor selects talented students and assists them with achieving their own professional goals. He even said he could match us up with a member of the Ministry to help us figure out our career paths.” Tom’s expression was a polite mask of surprise and gratitude at having been awarded such an honor by the Professor. 

Ivy saw through it immediately, but she had learned long ago how to play along when Tom laid out a part for her. 

“That sounds like such a wonderful opportunity. Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness and consideration, sir.” She smiled at him meaningfully, which wasn’t hard to do as all the words she spoke were true. 

The Professor practically beamed at her in response. “Excellent, excellent! Well our first gathering of the New Year is to take place in the coming weeks. I’ll send you both a note when all the details are settled. Now then, Tom, Ivy, don’t let me keep you any further from studying! Off you go, off you go.” 

And the older wizard practically shooed the two to retreat out of the empty classroom where Ivy had been practicing her new spell and down the corridor towards the library.   
“What was that about Tom?” She asked once they were out of earshot. 

Tom, just for one moment, took the chance to leave his face unguarded and trained a true smile in her direction. Whenever Tom smiled like that, Ivy knew that it unnerved others, but it never seemed to do that to her. In fact, it did just the opposite. It triggered a most pleasant shiver to erupt down her spine. She loved it when he looked like that.  
“That was the next step.” 

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present day

Harry steeled himself to continue his latest lesson with Dumbledore. A great deal had happened over the intervening months and this was their first meeting of the New Year. He reflected on all that they had discovered, including what Dumbledore had called ‘guesswork’. He snapped his green eyes up to meet the brilliant blue ones as the older man spoke.   
“So,” said Dumbledore, in a ringing voice, “we meet this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle and his ally, the young Miss Petros, both of whom we left last lesson poised on the threshold of their years at Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was to hear he was a wizard and that he refused my company to Diagon Alley, in favor of the two of them going alone. Lastly, that I had warned them both against continued thievery when they arrived at school.

“Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it came both Tom Riddle and Ivy Petros, both quiet children in secondhand robes, both lined up with the other first year to be sorted. He was placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head. Interestingly, however, Ivy was placed in Ravenclaw; a development which I believe shocked both of them greatly as they had never been separated like that since meeting one another.”

Harry made a small sound at Dumbledore’s revelation. 

“Ah, I see you did some research on your own then?” He looked pleased. 

“Yes sir, I told Ron and Hermione and Hermione found Ivy in the Prefect registers.”

“Yes, both Tom and Ivy were made Prefects in their fifth year, but we will get to that in a moment.” He waved his blacked hand toward the shelf over his head where the Sorting Hat sat, ancient and unmoving. “How soon Riddle learned that the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know—perhaps that very evening. The knowledge can only have excited him and increased his sense of self-importance. 

“However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow Slytherins with displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan who showed a protective and friendly side towards Ivy, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of his arrival. He seemed polite, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were most favorably impressed by him.”

“Didn’t you tell them, sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” asked Harry. 

“No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he behaved before and was resolved to turn a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that change.” 

Dumbledore paused and looked inquiringly at Harry, who had opened his mouth to speak. Here, again, was Dumbledore’s tendency to trust people in spite of overwhelming evidence that they did not deserve it! But then Harry remembered something…

“But you didn’t really trust him sir, did you? He told me…the Riddle who came out of the diary said, ‘Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did.’”

“Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he was trustworthy,” said Dumbledore. “I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye upon him, and so I did. I cannot pretend that I gleaned a great deal from my observations at first. He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identify he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again, but he could not take back what he had let slip in his excitement, nor what Mrs. Cole had confided in me. However, he had the sense never to try to charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues.

“As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had the kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts.”

Harry regarded Dumbledore as he spoke, letting all this speculation sink in, letting it merge with all the other information he had already gleamed where Voldemort was concerned. Dumbledore had brought out the Pensive and Harry could tell it was going to be a long night. However, as important as all the information was, Harry’s thoughts kept sliding back to a brown-haired girl with distinct violet eyes.


	7. Mind Reader

Chapter 7: Mind Reader 

Hogwarts, Scotland, September 1940

Tom took a sip out of his cup of pumpkin juice and surveyed the rest of the members of the Slugclub. Though he kept his face in a neutral but polite expression, the truth was that Tom had been bored the past week. He and Ivy had just finished their second summer jumping around between the various houses of the male Slytherin third-years and had returned back to the castle that they had both come to call home. 

However, as the two of them began to lull themselves back into the steady routine of classes and homework, Tom had felt oddly restless. He began to grow impatient with the usual routine, though even his third year had brought some differences such as new classes along with permission to visit the village of Hogsmead. 

Even so, he felt that things were moving too slowly. At that thought his brow creased ever so slightly even without his being aware of it. 

“Hey Riddle, why the long face?” Said a voice that made Tom’s blood boil. 

“…No particular reason…Hensley.” He did all he could to stop his upper lip from curling with downright hatred at the older boy’s presence at the Club. 

Theodore Hensley, now a seventh-year and Head Boy to boot, was someone whom Tom wished dead on the spot. He had thought he was rid of the pest the year before when he had told Ivy to cease all interaction with him (of course she had done so and Tom didn’t doubt her words). But to his immense dissatisfaction, he had found that the older boy was actually a member of the Slugclub though for the life of him Tom couldn’t fathom as to why. But in any case, that meant that he and Ivy had no choice but to suffer through his company once a month at these meetings. 

“Are you sure? I’d hate for anything to be the matter.” Hensley made his comment and then to Tom’s utter contempt decided to stand next to him. The two of them watching the rest of the ‘Welcome Back’ party that the potions professor had organized with the idea brotherly camaraderie in mind, though Tom’s thoughts were anything but. 

“Did you need something?” Tom tried for a strictly neutral tone. It wouldn’t do for the Head Boy to become aware of Tom’s hate; he couldn’t trust that any action he took against him would stay far below the radar of the other teachers…especially Albus Dumbledore. 

“Actually, yes. I was wondering if I could ask your advice.” Hensley said as he leaned his frame (only a little taller that Tom’s own he saw and had to suppress a smirk at the thought). 

“Of course, I would be honored to help the Head Boy. What did you have in mind?” I knew it, he’s too stupid to even read no doubt, came Tom’s vicious thought. But any humor and delight he had received thanks to his inner dialogue was burnt up by the rage that he felt at the next words he heard. 

“Well, you seem to be pretty close to Petros over there.” 

Tom was angered so much by those words he couldn’t even speak lest he attempt to kill the boy standing next to him with his bare hands, and to hell with any attempts at spell-casting. 

Hensley must have taken his silence as agreement because he continued, “I only ask because though she’s in my own House, she seems very shy and seems to always suddenly have something else to do when I approach her. I was thinking, you two are always together, what’s your take on it?” 

Though still angry, those words placated him enough to be able to respond. It seemed that Ivy had not only done as he asked, she had also done it in such a way as to keep Hensley from being suspicious of Tom’s interventions and orders that she stay away from the older Ravenclaw. 

“I see…I’m sorry to hear that. You see, she’s quite open and talkative with me.”

“Is that so? Well, do you know if I have upset her in some way?” The older boy turned to look Tom in the eye with a look that said far too much about his interest in Ivy. 

Tom took a moment to study the older student and found that with every passing second his anger and jealousy grew. The boy was older than him, had more magical teachings than him and seemed to have lived a privileged life. However, those judgements were superficial and Tom found he couldn’t decipher the thoughts behind Hensley’s actions when it came to Ivy. Sure he had some kind of interest in her, but Tom couldn’t determine what that could be. And that fact of not knowing was enough to make his stomach clench in anger. 

Tom pushed himself off the wall casually, but said in a tone that was almost as insidious as poison. “You know, honestly Hensley, Ivy has never mentioned you so I really wouldn’t worry about it. After all, she has so many other people in her life.” He flashed a pitying look towards Hensley and went to join Abaxus and Alphard whom he knew to be discussing some superfluous topic of which he had no interest. 

After he had joined the conversation (to his chagrin the topic was the upcoming Quidditch World Cup), his dark eyes wandered back over to the Head Boy who was still leaning against the opposing wall. His brows were knit together in thought and Tom saw that his glance kept wandering over to where Ivy was standing as she spoke to a Slytherin girl that she had met over the summer. 

He continued to watch the scene, taking in all the hints throughout his conversation. It was obvious that Hensley would not back down, despite the obvious remark from Tom that he was completely unimportant in Ivy’s world. Well, it seemed that Tom had something to occupy his time and alleviate his boredom, since, after all, Ivy was most definitely his.   
He smirked slightly at the thought, and decided to cement his words with action. He left his little group of Quidditch talk and wandered over to Ivy and the other Slytherin (he thought her name was Patsy Parkinson) and flashed both girls a charismatic smile. 

He took a moment to observe Hensley’s reaction and was delighted to discover the older boy flush with embarrassment at Tom’s forward action and push off from the wall, putting plenty of space between himself and Tom’s group of girls. 

“Oh Tom, there you are. Patsy was just telling me about a fascinating subject.” Ivy’s eyes lit up with excitement over having learned something new and Tom felt his stomach clench with another feeling, this time one not nearly as unpleasant as before. 

“Really? And what would that be?” He asked, his smile causing the younger Parkinson to blush. 

“…Legilimency.” The second-year replied softly. 

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((  
It only took a month, but by the middle of October, Tom was completely hooked. He and Ivy had collected and checked-out at least ten books regarding the art of Legilimency and Occlumency. Though the first art intrigued Tom to no end, he found he didn’t much care for the second. The books themselves advised wizards who studied the subjects to become proficient in both, but Tom had decided only to study the most basic techniques for Occlumency in favor of spending almost all of his time on Legilimency. He found his new skills intoxicating and he did his best to practice them wherever he went and on whomever he could without their noticing. 

He found out a great deal of information that way. He found out that most people had no control over who ‘heard’ their thoughts and it allowed Tom to gain more funds using the currency of information. But even with his new chess piece, Tom hadn’t yet had an opportunity to do any real damage, to test how far his new skills could get to. And he wanted to, badly. He wanted to hear the internal screams as he pushed into an unwilling victim’s mind. He wanted to watch them squirm. 

And oddly enough, an opportunity for him to do truly get some valuable information came along right as he wished. 

It happened on Tom and Ivy’s first visit to the Village of Hogsmead. Ivy had been excited at the prospect for the last week and though Tom found her enthusiasm a little tiring, he found that he was looking forward to the excursion himself. He was looking forward to being away from prying eyes and nosy teachers. 

As he and Ivy walked down the slopping lawn of Hogwarts towards the main gaits whose guardians were winged boars, he spied the perfect opportunity waiting for them. 

Theodore Hensley stood next to the Head Girl from Hufflepuff. Both were fulfilling their duties and checking students who were continuing along their way to the Village. 

“Ah, Hensley, just the person I wanted to see.” Tom walked up to him smoothly and felt Ivy stiffen behind him but follow along anyway. 

“Mr. Riddle? Ms. Petros! What can I do for you?” He nodded to Tom but flashed a toothy grin just for Ivy. 

Tom clenched his jaw in annoyance but then smoothed his face back to a pleasant expression. “Well, seeing as it’s our first time in the Village, we were wondering if you had some time today to show us around. After all, who would know the sight better than the Head Boy?” Tom settled for charm over threats. 

“Oh? Oh!” Said Hensley like he was picking up on some hint though Tom couldn’t imagine what his tiny brain could have thought at that point. “Of course, just give me a moment.” He flashed Tom what looked like a grateful grin and hurried over to the Hufflepuff girl. He exchanged a few words with her and nodded his head several times, seemingly thanking her for something and then headed back over to Tom and Ivy. 

“Thanks to Sarah over there I’m all free. Well then, shall we go?” He flashed another grin at Ivy who stepped sideways to be closer to Tom. 

“Yes, lets.” Tom agreed. 

“S-sure.” Ivy said, shooting a nervous and confused look in his direction. 

The threesome continued down to the Village and for the first time in his life Tom spent almost the entire day as the third wheel. Tom allowed Hensley to take the lead, encouraging Ivy to go ahead of him so that they might walk together. Ivy by this point knew better to question Tom in front of their unwelcome guest. Instead she chose to do as he silently directed and did her best to walk and talk to the Head Boy. 

Ignoring Hensley’s comments about the shops and history of Hogsmead, Tom instead focused the majority of his attention with picking at the older boy’s mind. To his delight he found the process rather easy but to his disgust he also found out Hensley’s true intentions with Ivy. 

It seemed like the fool was infatuated with her. Tom ‘heard’ his thoughts loud and clear during their conversation. Each time Ivy would look at Hensley, his mind would correspondingly be filled with grotesque images of him kissing her, of him holding her hand…and them doing…other things. At one point Ivy bent down to retrieve her cloak that had slipped out of her hands and Tom saw, through Hensley’s mind, a rather inappropriate thought of what Hensley would like to do to her backside. 

It was almost enough for Tom to drag out his wand and curse a certain body part of Hensley’s completely off his body. Tom continued his examination though and found that the boy was completely capable of his thoughts. He found other…conquests…deep in his memories, of girls strewn throughout his various years at Hogwarts. Tom sneered at those thoughts. For all the Head Boy’s pomp and circumstance, he was hardly a gentlemanly wizard. 

But perhaps the most surprising thing to Tom was that he found he didn’t disagree with Hensley’s thoughts. Over the last few years as Tom and Ivy had gotten older, they had both grown in different ways. Tom had grown taller, being almost fourteen, and he had lost what remaining baby fat he had in the last year. He knew from picking at others’ minds and from merely learning to read their body language that other people found him to be attractive, in fact actually quite handsome. Tom was fairly certain that if he wished he could have any girl he wanted within the walls of Hogwarts. If he wished to. 

Ivy, on the other hand, had grown as well. Still short for her age, she had made up for it in certain other areas. She was beginning to show what she would look like as a woman. Tom had been forced to recognize that past summer that Ivy could no longer stay in his room when they went back to the orphanage for those short few weeks in the beginning of June. It didn’t matter that it was what both of them wanted. It simply wasn’t appropriate neither in the Muggle or Magical worlds. 

It was a reality that had vexed Tom to no end. 

He wanted Ivy to be close to him, especially when they were back in that cursed place, the orphanage, the place that had caused them so much anger and frustration. But it would not happen, at least, not until he and Ivy fulfilled their goal and had their own place in the wizarding world. 

Suddenly Tom stopped short. 

He extracted himself from Hensley’s thoughts like someone shaking off a particularly disgusting insect. He thought furiously to himself for several minutes, oblivious to the fact that Hensley and Ivy were stepping further and further away from him. But it was one thought in particular that caused Tom to halt his mental exercises.   
He kept running one sentence over and over again in his head. 

He wanted Ivy close to him. He wanted Ivy. 

Tom inhaled sharply, finally connecting the dots. He wanted Ivy, he wanted her beyond simply possessing her like an object. Like the way that he viewed so many others. But he had Ivy, didn’t he? He had considered her to be his for years; ever since he had acquired her after he had broken that bully’s arm. Tom considered that. 

Ivy had never indicated that she wanted anything else but to be his…right? 

Tom shuddered at the thought of Ivy allowing anyone else to even touch her. But then he placated himself. He trusted Ivy. He trusted her like no-one else in his entire life. After all, she was the Queen on his chess board. She was meant to be by his side whatever path he chose. 

Satisfied with his logical progression, Tom looked up and realized that he was standing in the middle of a Hogsmead street completely alone. Hensley and Ivy were long gone. He looked around, slightly panicked. His plan had never meant for Ivy to be alone with that pig. No, Tom wouldn’t ever leave her alone like that. 

He started forward, looking vigorously from left to right, trying to fight back the feeling of panic he felt rising from the pit of his stomach. He stopped himself, forcing control over his emotions. 

Remember you are a wizard. He chided himself. It was a simple matter of a locator spell which he conducted in less than thirty seconds. He immediately became aware of which direction the two other students had gone. Tom followed their trail. 

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((  
Ivy had never really been angry with Tom before but she could safely say she was now. The nerve of him! First he demanded in his rather possessive way that she stay far away from Theodore Hensley and now he had orchestrated it that she had somehow ended up alone with him! And she suspected Tom’s true motive for doing so. He just wanted someone to practice his Legilimency on, unnoticed and unseen by the staff members of Hogwarts. 

As angry as Ivy was, she had decided to play along with Tom’s game. After all, he would always be there to protect her, right? That was how it was supposed to go until Hensley had taken her by the arm and somehow succeeded in separating the two of them from Tom. It had already been about fifteen minutes and Ivy still hadn’t managed to extract herself from his grip barring being downright rude to the Head Boy. 

“Um, Hensley…where are we going?” She asked, interrupting his spouting of various historical facts regarding the Village. 

“Oh? Well, I thought, seeing as how your friend has gone his own way we might explore some of the more…secluded spots of the Village.” 

Warning bells went off when she heard not just his words but also his tone. Immediately the familiar clenching of Ivy’s guts began to occur. It was a feeling that seemed to accompany her whenever she was alone with a boy that wasn’t Tom. It was a warning, a clue of what it was that Hensley actually wanted. 

Suddenly Tom’s voice echoed back to her. It was something he had said the year before when he had asked her to stay away from the now-Head Boy. 

“Ivy…they always want something. There is no way that he simply wanted to get your opinion about Quidditch.”

She stiffened as Tom’s words clicked into place. He had known, he had known all-along of Hensley’s intentions. Ivy’s mind was drawn to the boy’s persistent attempts to talk to her, the way that she would suddenly find his gaze zeroed onto her in the middle of the busy Common room. She was interrupted from her realization by Hensley himself. The boy had stopped talking and she looked around to find that they were near the edge of the forest; far enough away from the Village and the school that no-one would be able to find them unless they had seen where they were going. 

“Ivy…I had something I wanted to talk to you about.” Hensley said softly. He stepped closer to her and reached out to place his hand on her arm. 

Ivy swallowed painfully; a feeling akin to panic welled up inside of her. She didn’t respond, praying instead that he would just leave her alone if she didn’t say anything. 

Hensley tried again. “I...I wanted to tell you that I like you. I have for some time actually.” He licked his lips and in one swift motion he pulled Ivy’s smaller form against his and pressed her lips against his. 

And like the stitches ripping open on a partially healed wound, the memories that Ivy had tried to suppress for years came to her all at once like some raging bull that couldn’t be controlled or contained. 

Suddenly Ivy was three years old and stuck in the house of her uncle. Her parents had died only a month before, and though she was too young to truly understand the concept of ‘death’ she was old enough to know that they wouldn’t be coming back to get her. 

She was pretending to be asleep; she never really slept for more than an hour or two since she came to his house. Any doctor that she was taken too said that it was due to the trauma of losing her parents. It only angered her uncle. He hated when she would pretend, when she would lie. 

She stiffened involuntarily as she heard the door to her bedroom open. She heard the unmistakable sound of rustling clothes and felt the edge of the bed dip down to accommodate her uncle’s weight. She couldn’t stop the shiver that coursed through her body when she felt his big, meaty hands grab her roughly and force her to look at him.   
“Don’t play games with me girl. I know you are awake. You can’t fool me with any sorcery like your damned mother.” 

After that Ivy would generally force her mind to disassociate from what came next. Her uncle, as it turned out, was a sick man. He had been in love with her mother and apparently devastated that she married his brother, Ivy’s father. As a result, he tended to take out his broken heart on Ivy, often even calling her by her mother’s name. She had been born a half-blood, her mother being a witch. Her mother’s maiden name had been Longbottom. 

These were all facts that Ivy knew to be true. She knew them because her uncle had drilled them into her head. He had done a lot of things to her, and after so many of them Ivy had simply refused to respond. She didn’t cry when he beat her, she didn’t scream when he forced himself on her. She simply suppressed everything. 

Then one day, when she was five, her uncle had tried to force himself inside of her, seemingly frustrated by her lack of response despite all his other efforts. That new violation had caused Ivy to snap. 

Ivy didn’t remember quite what happened after that, all she knew was that her uncle was dead and that she was going to Wool’s Orphanage. And that was where she met Tom. 

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Tom heard the screaming first. It was so shocking that he felt his heart actually skip a beat. His quick gait turned into a flat-out run. He rose over the top of the hill and was dumb-founded by the scene before him. 

Theodore Hensley lay writhing and screaming on the ground before him, overshadowed by Ivy’s slight form. Her wand was raised and she had the same look in her eye that she did when she had blasted back Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop in the cave all those years ago in the English countryside. Fierce and murderous.

“Crucio!” Ivy said with true intent behind her words and Hensley screamed again. 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Tom laughed. It was one of his rare laughs, high and cold. They came out of only true delight of a situation, in this case being utterly surprised. 

Ivy, his violet Queen, one whom he had known longer than anyone else in his life had surprised him. And how he loved her for it. He grinned at her, not even noticing as he did so the tension that drew her body tighter than a longbow’s string. 

“Giving the git what he deserves?” He asked casually as he walked over to Ivy’s side. 

“Yes, both of you in fact.” 

His grin faltered as he saw that her wand was now aimed at him. 

For the first time Tom took in Ivy’s state. 

He ignored the moans of the upperclassman and eyed his most prized possession. Ivy’s form was shaking; he could see it in the tremors of her fingers even as she pointed her wand at him. He could see that even though she hadn’t shed a tear that she was very close to doing so. He could see that she was terrified. How unlike her. That thought caused Tom to feel his own fear. Not that Ivy would hurt him; she would never do that, but that he had allowed someone to hurt her enough to get her to this state. 

“Ivy…what did this bastard do to you?” His tone was dangerously calm. 

Ivy stiffened at his words; she hesitated and then lowered her wand. She seemed to collapse within herself as soon as she did so. Tom was instantly beside her. He gently took her in his arms and held her against his chest. Her tremors continued and were so intense that she couldn’t speak due to her teeth clacking together. 

Tom was impatient though and only waited a few seconds before he lowered them both down to the ground and, still holding her to himself, he raised both hands and placed them gently on either side of her head. Ivy didn’t resist him and he could sense that that she felt relieved that he had chosen to forgo words and get his information in this way. 

What he saw was perhaps a combination of the most disgusting and loathsome things he had ever witnessed. It only took a few moments but when Tom was done he had absorbed it all. From the horrific abuse that Ivy had suffered upon first coming to her uncle’s house after the death of her parents all the way up to when she first met Tom. And now, he saw how Hensley’s actions, though mild in comparison, had triggered her into an inescapable rage. 

Tom saw and he understood. He understood Ivy without having to say anything. And he understood what he had done to her. He had inadvertently left her alone with another predator. The Head Boy who still lay moaning in the grass before them. Silently Tom vowed in that moment to never allow it to happen again. 

Tom removed his hands from Ivy’s head. In his right hand he took his wand, and in his left he held his precious possession close to his beating heart. He dispassionately observed the boy before him and uttered one word with all the anger he felt in his heart for Ivy. “Crucio!”.


	8. Deeper into the Dark

Chapter 8: Deeper into the Dark 

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present Day

Harry continued to listen with fascination to Dumbledore’s musings of Voldemort’s past. His mind was focused on two different aspects however, throughout the conversation. On one hand he thought about all the things he now knew about Riddle, but on the other he tried to match them up to the idea that he had ever cared about someone else as much as he seemed to when it came to Ivy Petros. 

“The Death Eaters were rigidly controlled by Voldemort, as where they as students also controlled by Riddle,” Dumbledore continued, “they were never detected in open wrongdoing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which they were never satisfactorily linked. The first of these incidents seems to be the mysterious disappearance of a previous Head Boy’s memories…but that of course is a tale for another time. Of course the most serious of which was the opening of the Chamber of Secrets which occurred in Voldemort’s fifth year and which resulted in the death of a girl. As you know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of this crime. 

“I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts, and even fewer still of Ms. Petros. Few who knew them were prepared to talk about them, they are too terrified. What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could who could be tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muddle and wizard witnesses alike. 

Dumbledore continued with his explanation, describing with furrowed brows how Riddle seemed to be obsessed with her lineage and Harry had to stop an unexpected pang of familiarity. He too, had experienced overwhelming curiosity about his family. The older wizard went on to describe how Riddle had completed his transition over to being called Voldemort somewhere in his fourth or fifth years, after he had discarded his half-blood status forever. 

“Now then Harry, I have several memories for us to witness tonight, and here is the first. I was able to collect it from a rather reluctant House-mate of Ms. Petros’ and I think you will find it enlightening. But I must warn you, we have others to discuss tonight so do not become too entranced.” The older man chuckled warmly and Harry watched as he poured the silvery mass into the awaiting bowl. 

Hogwarts, Scotland March 1941

Harry blinked hard to clear his head then was taken aback from the scene that lay before him. It appeared to be a common room at Hogwarts, but not one in which he had ever stepped foot. Judging from the colors it had to be the Ravenclaw classroom since royal blue and bronze was mostly what he could see. 

“Here she is.” Came Dumbledore’s voice. “Ms. Susan Woodson. Though now she is called Susan Bones, I believe you know her granddaughter who goes by the same name?” His blue eyes twinkled at him. 

Harry nodded distractedly and surveyed the scene before him. It appeared to be late and he could see that she was focused intently on a piece of parchment that lay before her.   
“Damn willowroot.” She muttered to herself.

Harry could also tell by her hairstyle and general cut of her uniform that it had to be around the same time that he had seen Riddle through the diary in his second year.  
“Susan, are you still up?” Said a new voice. 

Harry snapped his head up and was again taken aback. The new figure that stood before him had to be Ivy Petros. But she was much older than the last time he had seen her. He guessed that she was maybe a year younger than himself in his own time and he couldn’t help noticing that she was extremely beautiful. Her brown hair was longer than it was when she was eleven, and as she stepped into the light of the Common Room the reflection from the candles seemed to make her violet eyes shine. 

Dumbledore followed his gaze and smiled knowingly. 

“Yes, this potions essay will be the death of me.” Susan laughed but Harry could see it was hollow with exhaustion and frustration. 

“Would you like me to take a look at it?” Ivy’s voice was full of concern for her friend. 

“Would you? I can’t tell you how much that would help me.” She handed over her essay to the brown-haired girl and the two labored over it in silence for several minutes.   
Harry was just beginning to fidget and wonder what made this memory so important when Ivy spoke up. 

“Susan…wanted to ask you...do you know anything about Ravenclaw?” 

“…You mean our House?” She replied, clearly confused. 

“Well, yes and about Rowena Ravenclaw, more specifically.” 

“I know a bit, my family has been in and out of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff for generations. Anything in particular?”

“Yes…I was wondering if you knew anything about her lost Diadem?” 

“Diadem? What on earth could you need that for? You are already top of the class, except for Tom of course. Wait, do you finally want to beat him in all our classes? Is this what you are on about? Legend has it that the wearer will inherit Ravenclaw’s whit.” Susan flashed her friend a grin. 

Ivy grinned back and Harry felt his insides churn unexpectedly. “Sort of, you know me, always wanting to know about history and all that. Besides, Tom was curious as well.”   
“Of course he is, that man of yours couldn’t stop himself from solving every mystery left in the wizarding world.”

Ivy didn’t reply, but Harry saw that her face turned red at her words. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Ivy, I wasn’t trying to tease you. It’s just…everyone is thinking it. We’re just wondering when you are going to make it official.”

“Make what official?” 

“Well…you are practically engaged, right?” 

“No! Who’s saying that?” Ivy’s voice was slightly raised in discomfort, like she didn’t know how to discuss such a topic even with her friend. 

Susan just shrugged and turned back to her essay. “Not sure how the rumor got started, but if you aren’t interested in him that way you have a funny way of showing it. And if you are, you better make it clear fast before the other girls snatch him up.”

Again Ivy was silent and Susan seemed to respect her in that decision. She instead opted for tactically continuing with the corrections to her homework. 

“Time to go Harry.” 

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present Day

Harry surfaced out of the Pensive gulping for air like he had just dived twenty feet beneath the Black Lake. He took deep breaths and tried to ascertain what he had just witnessed. On the surface it seemed like two girls gossiping over any boy…except that boy was Lord Voldemort! He had to admit that the entire idea made him uncomfortable. 

“Struggling with your thoughts, Harry?” 

“Yes! How can she even think to like someone as evil as him?” He asked Dumbledore, completely incredulous. 

Dumbledore smiled at Harry sadly. “Remember Harry, the ‘Tom Riddle’ that Ivy Petros knew was not the same one that you have such reason to hate. You would do well to remember that things that happen in our lives change us…and scar us, sometimes for the worse than for the better.”

Harry stared at Dumbledore hard, wondering for the life of him why this brilliant wizard was so compelled to see the good in every situation and to forgive so easily. 

“Anyway Harry. The biggest thing I want you to take away from that conversation was the mention of an object of one of the founders.”

“Yeah, the, uh, Diadem?” 

“Precisely. And now, as I have said, we have other memories to discover tonight.” 

Harry looked reluctantly at the bowl, wondering this time if he would see something more mortifying than Lord Voldemort’s dating life. 

He took another deep breath, and dived. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, April 1941

Tom was excited beyond reason. Finally, after months of research and searching, they had found it: the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. It seemed that the only downside was that it was in the middle of the girl’s lavatory. He groaned inwardly at the thought of how he would explain away the amount of time that he would need to spend in such a place. Perhaps his distant ancestor had been…interested in certain things? 

The idea made him distinctly uncomfortable. For Salazar Slytherin to be a common voyeur was very undignified and clashed horribly with Tom’s internal image of the legendary wizard. 

But then another thought occurred to him. After all, Slytherin House was one famous for cunning, perhaps he had chosen this spot because it was simply the last place that anyone would ever look for it? Yes, Tom liked that explanation much better. 

And thankfully, Tom hadn’t even been the one to do the discovering in that particular room. It was all thanks to Ivy that he had found it in the first place. Abraxus, Tom and Ivy had taken the matter of discovering the Chamber of Secrets seriously, but on different levels. 

Abraxus wanted to find it for the simple fact that like most pure-bloods he was hopelessly bored. In some ways, that was what made him even simpler to control. In others, it simply made his more reckless.

Tom wanted to find the Chamber for his own reasons, mostly because he figured that anything of Slytherin’s was also, in some distant way, something for Tom as well. Additionally, Tom was most curious to find out more about how the Hogwarts founder would ‘cleanse the school’ as Abraxus so eloquently put it. 

And that had left Ivy’s reason, perhaps the least selfish of the three of them. Ivy wanted to find the Chamber because Ivy loved learning things…and because Ivy wanted to help Tom. 

So their search had begun. They looked in the most obvious places first, mostly down in the dungeons. Tom scoured the Slytherin Common Room, along with all the boys’ dorms. He was regretful that he wasn’t able to take a look into the girls’ dorms but then decided he only would if they hadn’t had any luck elsewhere. 

Finally, after months of searching, Ivy had stumbled upon the entrance by pure dumb luck. It was in the second floor girl’s bathroom, and Ivy had just gone in for a moment after their charms class. Tom was waiting for her so that the two of them could walk to transfiguration together. Tom always excelled in all of his subjects, but for some reason he found transfiguration to be vexing. Then again, perhaps it was because it was taught by the one person he couldn’t seem to fool: Dumbledore. 

He had made a mistake, he reasoned. He had allowed the old man to see too much of his true self in their first meeting. He had allowed him to see both his desire to collect and possess things as well as his desire to protect a certain someone. 

Tom reflected on that thought for several minutes. He had made a promise during the last term to protect Ivy and ensure that he would never put her at the mercy of another predator again. The two of them had shared many things in their short lives, but perhaps the torture and subsequent memory wipe of one Theodore Hensley was the most significant to date. 

It had been a tricky thing, using a memory spell, but Tom was confident that he had done a nearly perfect job. It was so good in fact that anyone scouring Hensley’s mind would find that the memories had been replaced with others that fit his predicament quite well, not just that the incident had been wiped completely. 

So far neither he nor Ivy had been suspected. Tom didn’t mind what became of the fool as long as no-one could tie the incident back to either himself or Ivy. Besides, he reasoned that the sick bastard got what he deserved. 

And then, there was Ivy to consider. She had always been quiet and bookish since he first met her, but since last October she had changed slightly. It was almost as if being able to finally share with Tom the events of her past had freed her somehow. It was like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders. She was still the quiet and bookish girl that Tom had grown up with, but now she seemed to be that way by choice rather than by necessity. Tom had found that he needed to adjust to her changes. The results surprised him because he found that he rather preferred this new version of Ivy. He continued his musings until he was cut off by an excited voice. 

“Tom. Tom! Oh you won’t believe it!” Ivy bounced up to him and grabbed his hand, practically intending to pull Tom into the girl’s restroom. 

“Ivy! What, what is it? Calm down, I can’t go in there.” He glanced around abruptly and found the corridor to be quite deserted. Almost all the students were either in their classrooms or about to be. 

“I found it, I found the entrance!” 

All struggling on Tom’s end to extract himself abruptly ceased. He stared at Ivy with an unusual expression, it was quite dumbfounded. 

“The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in the second floor girl’s lavatory.” He deadpanned. 

“Yes!” Ivy insisted, her beautiful eyes shining with obvious delight. 

Tom took another hard look at her. It was almost impossible to say no to her when she looked that excited. He took another quick look around and asked, “Is anyone in there?”   
“No, I was the last one out, I already checked.” 

“Fine, show me.” To hell with transfiguration and with Dumbledore. If there was even the slightest change that Ivy was right, he would skip all those classes until the end of the year. 

The two of them entered into the bathroom and Tom wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Having never been in a girl’s bathroom some fascinated part of his brain was disappointed to see that it was exactly the same as the boy’s bathroom next door, just a mirror image. The other part of him was relieved. He wasn’t sure how he could handle some massive shrine to the snake founder sitting in the middle of the toilets. 

“Here.” Ivy pointed as she stood next to one of the sinks. 

Tom frowned and looked closer. Upon further inspection it looked like a regular sink and tap. He examined it closer and then suddenly understood what Ivy was so excited about. On one of the taps was etched a drawing of a snake. Small and elegant in design, it would never be noticed by anyone but those who would be deliberately looking for it. 

Tom found his breath hitch in his throat. He felt a slight tremor in his hands from the excitement of the moment. He tried to reason through the excitement, I want to try to open it right now. I want to go to the place where Slytherin’s magic is strongest. He quickly looked at Ivy, her face set in determination. That was enough to spur him into action. After months of thinking he decided for the most obvious way to open any entrance he might find. 

“Open for the Heir of Slytherin”. He hissed in Parseltongue. 

It worked! 

The wall began to move. Tom jumped back instinctively and pulled Ivy close to him. The two of them stared intently at the wall with utter fascination as it rolled back into the surrounding stone and revealed a large pipe about the right size for a grown man to slide down. 

Tom approached the opening cautiously. He examined all the different angles, searching for a trap of for some kind of hidden magic. Finding nothing, he began to roll up his sleeves and securely tucked his shirt further into his slacks. 

“Tom, are you seriously going to go into that pipe?” Ivy asked, but her tone was split between excitement and worry. 

Tom didn’t even bother to give her a backwards glace. “Of course I’m going down there Ivy, don’t be daft.” He approached the pipe and then paused. “I’ll go down first…to make sure it’s safe and then you follow after me.” 

“What? Wait! Tom!” Ivy reached for the back of his robes but before she could stop him, he was already gone. 

The air whizzed past Tom’s ears and though he could tell by the sensation he was feeling that he was moving very quickly, but he couldn’t see any progress. It was dark in the pipe and he was thankful that he wasn’t claustrophobic otherwise the pipe would have been a nightmare. As it was, Tom was merely exhilarated. He grinned wildly, but braced himself all the same. And it was good thing he did because the ride came to an abrupt stop. 

Tom stumbled out of the bottom of the pipe, his feet making crunching sounds as he shattered what appeared to be ancient animal bones at the bottom of the tunnel. He blinked owlishly around, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the gloom. 

“Lumos!” He said clearly and took another look around with the pale beam of light. It appeared that he had landed in a lower dungeon. Long-forgotten, the walls were slick with perspiration and he could see puddles reflected in the light before him. He took a step forward and then hesitated. He couldn’t explore more without first closing the entrance to the tunnel above, in the case that some stupid girls were to find it. 

He hesitated for a second time. As much as he wanted to be the only one to explore the Chamber, he had to admit that he wouldn’t have found it, at least not this quickly, without Ivy’s help. He struggled for a long moment with weighing what he wanted to do with what he should do. He should reward Ivy for her discovery, it was only natural, right? Ivy should be by his side when he claimed his inheritance. He walked back to the entrance of the pipe. 

“Ivy, can you hear me?” He called up the opening. 

“Tom! Yes, are you alright?” He heard the anxiety in her tone and couldn’t help smiling slightly. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Are you able to come down? Did anyone else come in?” 

“No, I’m alone. I’m coming now.” 

He heard slight reverberations come down through the pipe and then heard Ivy let out a surprised squeal accompanied by a wooshing sound that could only be her sliding down the pipe. Tom waited and counted. He found that it took Ivy almost a full minute to slide all the way down the pipe. He braced himself and then caught her as she came tumbling out. 

“Are you alright?” He asked her softly as he steadied her with both hands. 

“Yes, that was quite fun, wasn’t it?” She smiled up at him. 

“Quite. Wait her a moment.” Tom moved towards the pipe one last time and then said “Close the entrance.” In his slithering Parseltongue. He listened and was satisfied to hear the unmistakable sounds of the entrance in the bathroom sliding shut. 

Confident that he and Ivy could then explore uninterrupted, he continued forward. Ivy followed closely behind. The two spent at least two hours in the Chamber that first day. They discovered that it was actually a collection of tunnels that seemed to lead anywhere and everywhere in Hogwarts. 

Tom decided that the first thing he would do would be to create a map of the Chamber and then systematically explore it, room by room, tunnel by tunnel, until he had learned all of Salazar Slytherin’s secrets. Tom found that he quite liked the tunnels. They seemed to be quiet, almost peaceful but at the same time full of life. He hadn’t really thought about it before but the Chamber offered something that Tom had been missing: some silence. 

With the other students, excluding Ivy of course, Tom often found himself exasperated by their incessant chatter. Constantly talking about things that didn’t matter either to Tom or to Tom’s future. But here, in the Chamber, it was different. It was the only place where Tom found that he and Ivy could actually be alone without a chance of interruption. 

And that opened up a treasure-trove of possibilities. They now had somewhere to practice magic that they both knew wasn’t permitted in classes at Hogwarts. And after the incident with Hensley, the two of them had become even more intent to practice dark magic. Thanks to the Chamber, they had somewhere to talk about their plans without being interrupted. And it was somewhere that Tom and Ivy could show the true nature of their relationship without prying eyes. 

Tom stopped in his tracks at that train of thought. He turned slightly to eye Ivy who was across the main Chamber closely examining a stature of Salazar Slytherin. Her back was to him and he took the opportunity to observe her. It had been a long time since either he or Ivy could do what they truly wanted, be the way they wanted to be. 

In Tom’s case, he had been feeling it for months now, and if he were to admit it to himself, perhaps even years. Tom wanted Ivy, but it was more than that. He wanted to possess her, protect her…Tom desired her. But he had been careful. Ever since the incident with Hensley when Tom learned the true horrors of Ivy’s past, he had been tentative around her, cautious. Barely touching her in the weeks afterwards, he had waited to see what she would do. 

Ivy hadn’t seemed to notice his hesitation and had been content to continue much the same way as she always had. She stuck to Tom’s side, she laughed with him when he said something particularly amusing. She had touched him in her own careful way. Never enough to startle him, or to make his skin crawl, but enough to assure him that she was still there, that she was still his. 

Suddenly, Tom found that his mouth had gone dry. He continued to observe Ivy from across the room, but suddenly found that he wasn’t in control of his feet anymore. He continued forward until he stood right next to her. 

Ivy had heard him approach and turned to look at him, probably expecting him to share his latest discovery. Instead Tom simply looked at her. He couldn’t be sure of his expression, only that it was unguarded, and possibly quite hungry. He guessed this last part because as soon as they locked eyes, Ivy’s own widened and her face flushed a delightful shade of pink. 

“Mav.” She said his name, her special name for him. And that was all it took. 

Tom stepped forward, slowly, he didn’t want to scare her, and brought one hand up to touch her cheek. He ran his long fingers along her jaw, watching in fascination as his touch left raised goose-bumps in his wake. He parted his lips slightly and slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Ivy’s for any indication of fear, and he lowered his face down to hers.   
He pressed his lips against hers and it felt like am electrical storm and heaven all rolled into one. It was a light kiss, one that was the complete opposite of what Hensley had done. Whereas the Head Boy had been rough and forceful, Tom was gentle and tentative. He waited to see Ivy’s reaction after he pulled away slightly, but was emboldened when he met her eyes again and saw the look of raw desire reflected there. 

Tom grinned. He was different, yet again. He was special. He alone could do this to Ivy, he alone was the only person whom she desired. And how he desired her, how he needed her! He deepened the kiss, this time drawing her close to him. He signed as he enjoyed the sensations his body was feeling. Even though Ivy had touched him many times, this time was different. Wherever their bodies touched seemed to shoot off tingles of electricity in Tom’s. 

They continued to kiss, and Ivy, uncertain as she was, raised her arms to rest against the back of Tom’s neck. She pushed her hands into his hair and he very nearly groaned in excitement at the feeling. He placed his hands around Ivy securely, pressing her as much as he could to his frame without actually crushing her. 

Finally, Ivy began to pull back and they broke the contact. She was breathing hard, her eyes dilated by more than the gloom of the Chamber. Her face was flushed and her normally well-combed hair was mussed by the attentions of his hands. But the way she looked at him was almost enough for him to grab her all over again. 

Tom smiled at her, one of his true smiles. And was delighted by the way if seemed to make her shiver, not from fear, but in anticipation. He leaned forward one last time and placed another kiss on her lips. “We should be heading back.” He whispered in her ear. 

Ivy only nodded. They exited the Chamber together, her hand securely placed into his, and with Tom feeling higher than he had ever been before.


	9. Plans Put into Motion

Chapter 9: Plans Put into Motion 

Malfoy Manor, England, July 1941

It was the summer before Tom Riddle’s fourth year at Hogwarts and so far he had managed to collect not just Abraxus Malfoy, Alphard Black, Jaxus Avery, Thoros Nott and Regus Lestrange, but also several new followers. He surveyed his current progress and took a few minutes to compare his last few moves. 

Tom was occupying a winged armchair in one of the Malfoy Manor’s larger sitting rooms. All his primary followers were arrayed around him as were two second years, Victor Crabbe and Gerry Goyle, as well as a two of the younger members of the Black family. His gaze turned to the dark locks of Cygnus Black, Alphard’s younger brother, and their cousin Orion. Both Cygnus and Orion were due to start their first year at Hogwarts in two months’ time and no-one doubted they would be sorted into Slytherin. House. 

Tom’s gaze momentarily flickered to his right side where Ivy along with her Ravenclaw friend Susan, and the only girl from Slytherin, Patsy, were seated. The three girls were the only females of the group and the boys all tended to jostle for their attention in what Tom supposed was some kind of annoying “male-bonding” experience. At first he had simply ignored it but as it had continued he felt the need to…remind them who the true leader was. He smirked at the thought. Thanks to Susan and her surprisingly vast knowledge of illegal spells, Tom’s knowledge of curses and hexes had doubled in the last year. And he sometimes felt the need to…practice that knowledge to ensure he truly grasped it. 

As he continued to look around at his entourage, he felt smug satisfaction creep up his spine. He felt confident in this group of witches and wizards. All came from pure-blooded families and all provided him with some sort of influence or opportunity. It seemed that his past few moves had been well orchestrated. Now he needed to only ensure the same of his actions going forward. 

“Galleon for your thoughts, Lord?” Abraxus leaned over to him with a drink of some sort of watered down wine in hand. 

Tom smirked again at the title. It started out as a joke at first, but Tom found that he rather liked the idea of being a Lord, a king…even an emperor and so he had encouraged it until all the members of the group referred to him as Lord in their private meetings and simply as Riddle when they were in public. Tom had decided after further deliberation that he would extract himself as much as he could from his Muggle father, allowing only Ivy to still call him Tom. 

“…Just thinking about all the merits of our little group dear Abraxus.” Tom said softly, his long pale fingers locked in front of him; smirk still firmly on his face. 

“Oh course, the Knights are certainly the most talented of groups. And with the Heir of Slytherin as our leader, we can finally realize our noble House Founder’s greatest goal.” He whispered this line, not daring quite yet to say it aloud, lest he unbalance Tom’s next set of moves. 

Abraxus, Tom knew, was speaking of Slytherin’s desire to ‘Cleanse the School’ of all but the pure-blooded students. Supposedly this was the snake Founder’s ultimate goal and the reason for which he built the Chamber of Secrets that Tom had unearthed the previous spring. Of course he would never tell Abraxus this fact, nor would he tell his blonde-headed follower that it was actually the perceptiveness of a half-blood, Ivy herself, who actually found the Chamber. 

Wouldn’t old Salazar find that quite ironic? 

“And, pray tell, how would our Founder say we would proceed?” Tom uttered quite smoothly, speaking a bit louder than Abraxus had done. 

“Proceed with what, mates?” Alphard asked, elbowing his younger brother sharply in an effort to quiet his laughter. 

“Well, now that you ask,” Tom fished his wand out of his pocket. Even though anyone under seventeen was forbidden to do magic while on Holiday, Abraxus had explained that Malfoy Manor was heavily warded and as a result, the Ministry would not be the wiser should anyone visiting decide to practice illegal magic…especially magic that was illegal in more than just the underage wizard that performed the spell. “I thought that we should talk about our futures.” He took a moment to flash a charming smile at his ‘friends’.   
“Oh, well, that’s no fun at all,” Jaxus Avery said, “After all, most of our futures are already decided.” 

“Do tell.” Tom commanded, his interest actually peaked over something Avery said for perhaps the first time since he met the boy. 

Avery continued, not seeming to notice the cruel glint in his Housemate’s eye, “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Abraxus will be following his father’s footsteps, Wizengamot all the way, while the Blacks will be following in their family’s tradition…as for myself and Nott here,” he nodded towards his tightest friend of the group, “We are going to become Aurors, it’s been in our family line for ages. But that about you, Lord?” He asked this with a teasing tone, not quite realizing that soon Tom would make that title a true reality. 

Tom indulged him with a real answer, or as close to the truth as he could allow “…I was thinking about a career in politics as well. Perhaps law-making…perhaps other things.” He answered cryptically. 

“Oh, come off it man, with your grades and your blood, you could even go for Minister of Magic.” Abraxus said this, grinning as he did so. 

Tom regarded his closest supporter with interest. Clearly the boy had been half-joking but now that he said it, it had Tom thinking. He did have a desire to carve out a place for himself and his possessions, especially Ivy. Why not shoot for the highest branch of that equation?

“I just might consider it, Abraxus. But if I were to run, what would my platform be? Muggle and pure-blood equality? Or perhaps I could even advocate for equal rights for House Elves and Werewolves.” His tone was biting, mocking and his companions all hissed in distaste, though all were aware of his dry joke. 

Interestingly, Susan, a Ravenclaw, also joined in on the laughter in the absurdity of that plan.

Abraxus regarded Tom warily, as though he had been taking an innocent walk and stumbled upon a coiled rattlesnake. He was about to speak and even went so far as to open his mouth when he was interrupted. 

“…Your platform should be Magic is Might.” Said a soft voice. 

All parties engaged in the conversation turned to regard the previously quiet group of girls. The one who had spoken turned to look each one of them in the eye, her own purple eyes seemed to bore holes into Tom’s very soul. 

“Magic is Might,” Nott repeated, “That, my dear, is bloody brilliant.” He flashed Ivy a very potent smile. 

His comment triggered an eruption of conversation, each boy trying his hand at twisting and turning the phrase. But Tom stayed silent. He regarded Ivy with an expression of delight and hunger. The delight was no surprise, but the feeling of hunger was something he was still getting used to. Ever since he has kissed her in the Chamber of Secrets, he had begun to look at her differently. He had begun to think of her and desire her in quite a different way than he had before, and he knew she would not deny him. 

He smiled at Ivy, giving her silent approval for her idea. She smiled back at him and then turned to finish her conversation with the other two girls but Tom noticed that she moved slightly closer to his armchair. That observation made Tom very happy indeed. He too turned back to his other co-conspirators as they moved forward with their plan, not knowing as they did so, how many deaths this first decision would eventually cause. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, January 1942

The first time Tom met the Basilisk he was alone. It was perhaps the best thing that could have happened because he was sure that if Ivy had been in the Chamber she probably would have been killed. The Basilisk was a violent and cunning creature, but that suited Tom just fine for they were alike in those aspects. 

He stumbled upon the creature in the first month of the second term of his fourth year at Hogwarts. Because of how late in the previous year he and Ivy had discovered Salazar Slytherin’s crowning achievement, it limited the amount of time Tom had been able to spend exploring its vast network of tunnels and rooms. However, as soon as he stepped foot again in the familiar halls of Hogwarts, he felt the longing tug at his gut. 

The urge to map it out and tease every scrap of knowledge and solve every puzzle it had to offer was overwhelming…almost intoxicating. And so it was that since his first week back at the school Tom used as many of the free blocks in his schedule to climb down into the cold pipe and reclaim his birthright.

After so many hours exploring the main tunnels and rooms, he decided to turn down a tunnel that while still quite large, was more modest in size than others that he had explored in the previous year. He took his time, carefully examining every portion he could, his wand lit in front of him casting a pale glow into the expansive darkness. He continued on that way for several minutes when he discovered that he could no longer continue forward without stepping on rodent skeletons. They lay before him in a mass grave, completely undisturbed. 

He grimaced with distaste as he picked his way through the carpet of tiny bones, not being able to move at all without hearing tiny snapping sounds as his second-hand shoes ground the ancient leavings to dust. The sound echoed eerily down the tunnel until he became aware that the sound had changed. Where before it had bounced back to him with frequent intervals, as he continued forward the sound seemed to echo away from him indicating that he was getting close to yet another large chamber. 

He moved more cautiously, thinking to himself that perhaps it could be booby-trapped to prevent intruders from gaining access to knowledge meant only for the one destined to find it. He reached the end of the tunnel and muttered “Lumos Maxima” in order to take in the entire sight. 

Instead of an empty chamber, the sight that lay before him almost made him drop his wand in shock. He seemed to be staring at a large scaled body. The scales covered loops and loops of serpent flesh that was piled atop itself until it formed some kind of cohesive coil of monster. It was perhaps the last thing that Tom expected to see and as a result, he had to stare at it for several long minutes before he decided to move forward. 

He observed that the snake was definitely alive, he could see portions of it rise and fall with deep and slow breaths, but that it appeared to be in a deep sleep. Tom shook himself out of his trance and perceived that while there were certainly a great deal more rodent skeletons in this room, none of them appeared to be fresh. Indeed, they all had a thick layer of dust on them and no smell of rot filled the space. Both of those observations told Tom that the monstrous serpent appeared to have been hibernating for quite some time.   
Perhaps it’s been waiting all this while for its new master, he thought to himself. He pondered that. The year before he had decided to try his hand at Care of Magical Creatures having as he did, no practical knowledge for beasts of the Wizarding World. He recalled a page in his book covering just this sort of creature. He believe the book had called it a Basilisk and he recalled the very inadequate description that the book had provided: 

'Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crow of the rooster, which is fatal to it.'

Tom considered those words, carefully moving around the great coils of scales until he found the creature’s head. He took a chance in that moment and slowly looked at it directly. The snake’s eyes, its deadly and dangerous eyes, were closed, and he breathed a light sigh of relief. The head itself was triangular, just like any serpent head, but it was huge. Easily large enough to snap Tom up in one quick bite. Around its eyes and down to its nose were rows of sharp numbs of bone which served to give the creature a dragon-like appearance, though he knew it was anything but. 

Having made his observations, Tom contemplated his options at that point. He cataloged the known facts. First of all, he, being Slytherin’s Heir, had successfully found and opened the Chamber of Secrets. Second of all, he had discovered how exactly the Hogwarts founder had intended to ‘Cleanse the school of Mudbloods’ as Abraxus had so eloquently put it all those months ago, by way of the Basilisk. 

Satisfied, he then took care of his assumptions. His first was that he, as the Heir of Slytherin, could presumably control the Basilisk to do his bidding. The second was that he, again as the Heir of Slytherin, would actually want to complete the Founder’s pure-blood agenda. Now that, that would take more thought. If Tom actually succeeded in waking and controlling the Basilisk, how could he use it to his full advantage? How could it help him achieve his ultimate goal? Well, he figured that could wait. He would have to see if it could actually be done first. 

Tom looked hard at one of the scales on the snake’s side. 

“Wake, I as the Heir of Slytherin command it.” He said in his slithering tongue.

Nothing happened at first and he was just about to try again when he sensed that the thing’s breathing had shifted. Whereas before it had been deep and slow, it now sped up, the inhales became shallower. Tom began to grow excited, and a little nervous. He gripped his wand tightly and kept his gaze trained on the one deep green scale in front of him.   
He waited a few more minutes and said, “Wake! I command it!” with greater assurance and confidence. 

Suddenly, the coil in front of him moved, much faster than he thought something that big could move, and his scale was gone. In its place was the pale underbelly of the serpent, its head was angled above him and Tom had to fight the insane urge to look up and meet the creature’s lethal gaze. 

“Who sssumons me? Who wakesss me?” The voice of the Basilisk was similar to other snakes that Tom had conversed with…though much, much deeper. It rumbled inside his chest, and he had to fight another urge, this one to step back in alarm. The thing was just massive. Tom had originally estimated that it was about fifty feet long, but he had been wrong. From the tip of its snout to the end of its long body the Basilisk had to be almost twice that length. 

Tom swallowed hard, and still staring at the pale flesh before him, he answered, “I am Slytherin’s Heir. I am your master and you will do as I command.” 

He waited, first one heartbeat, then two, and then nearly jumped out of his skin when the snake’s huge head bent down towards his own, its long forked tongue flicked out to sample his scent. He immediately closed his eyes tightly against any possibility of locking eyes with the serpent. The creature continued to examine Tom Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin with detached interest. 

As always, Tom had a connection to snakes and one thing that he always seemed to notice was a complete lack of emotional connection to the world around them. There were things that interested them such as food, and there were things that alerted them to danger such as predators, but otherwise they did not comprehend emotions on the same level as humans. It was no different with the Basilisk. Tom could sense that his presence was a curiosity. And though the creature seemed to wish him no ill-will, it had no particular sense of loyalty to him either. It was simply a servant of the line of Slytherin and that and that alone, was what would make it obey Tom. 

The Basilisk, done with its cursory examination of the human before him, reared back and Tom was completely unprepared for what happened next: the serpent opened its jaws and snapped him up in one fluid movement. 

Tom immediately cast multiple defensive spells. He cast a shield charm against the snake’s poisonous fangs and a repelling charm against any possibility that it try to swallow him. Finally, he cast a powerful cutting curse at the roof of the snake’s mouth, causing it to immediately open its jaws and deposit him back onto the floor of the Chamber, slightly sticky with Basilisk saliva. 

“How dare you!” Tom screamed in fury, “I am your master! You WILL do as I command! You will NEVER do that again for it you do I will slay you on the spot!” 

He raised his wand and leveled it at the snake’s throat. He could see bright red blood drip down the sides of the snake’s mouth from the cut that he had inflicted inside. Tom breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down though it was hard after the immediate rush of adrenaline he had just received from his ordeal. He waited for the snake to strike again, but was once more surprised. 

“I will do as you bid, Massster.” 

Hogwarts, Scotland, February 1942 

Ivy took a momentary break from her studying to stretch out her cramped muscles. She was used to it by now, the long hours of studying in the back of the library. It was a forgotten table due to its uneven legs and creaky chair that accompanied it. But Ivy liked it just fine. It gave her access to all the references she would need for any given assignment, and she was likely to go unnoticed. 

And lately, Ivy had begun to wish that she could become truly invisible. 

The teasing had started almost as soon as they had returned from summer vacation, and she had done her best not to alert Tom that she had been enduring it for months. She knew that any revenge he would seek to be cruel and excessive. Besides, tt wasn’t anything that Ivy hadn’t been used to before; after all she had gone through a lot at the orphanage, despite how close she and Tom were at that time. But this was a little different. Since the incident with Hensley the year before, Ivy had become increasingly aware that many boys at Hogwarts had an interest in her. And because of that, it seemed that almost every girl in the school had it out for her. 

What was more, because of her very obvious friendship with Tom and the rest of the Slytherin boys, Ivy found that she had no other female friends.

In fact, the two exceptions to that rule were Susan from her own house and Patsy from Slytherin. Both of those girls were snuggly on Ivy’s side and would frequently come to her defense. But, sadly, they couldn’t always be with her. And to Ivy’s horror, it had only gotten worse the more she hung around Tom. 

Her busy hand stilled at the thought of her oldest and best friend. Tom had always been good-looking, even when they were small, but over the years he had grown into an extremely handsome young man. His dark hair and eyes made him look a little mysterious and daring and as a result he had cultivated no-end of admirers from the female students of Hogwarts, and even some of the boys though they wouldn’t openly admit such a thing. As such, since Ivy was the only known girl he would associate with, she had become, seemingly overnight, the one girl almost everyone wanted to hate or date. 

It was maddening. 

She continued working on her essay, this latest one on Mermaid rebellions in the fourteenth century. It was a dry topic, since Mermaids could only ever cause problems for wizards at sea or in large lakes, but the thought of knowledge and schoolwork calmed her. So engrossed was she that she didn’t hear the approach of two second-hand, but no less exquisitely maintained, black loafers. 

“There you are.” Tom said exasperation and irritation obvious in his voice. 

Ivy jumped in surprise and looked up to meet the dark eyes of her oldest friend. 

“Were you looking for me?” She asked, confused. 

“Yes!” He looked at her as if she had gone crazy. “It’s almost time for the Slugclub, I reminded you about it at dinner.” 

Ivy quickly checked the time and saw that Tom was correct; it looked like she had spent far more time on the essay than she had intended. “Oh, I’m sorry Tom, I forgot.” She quickly packed up her scrolls and books, moving faster than usual due to the impatient expression on his face. 

“Come on!” He barely waited for her to finish zipping up her bag before he grabbed her arm and practically marched her out of the library. “By the way, did you have any luck finding out more about that word?” He asked offhandedly, detaching himself from her once he was sure she could keep up with his long strides. 

Ivy had blushed at the sudden contact, it was rare for even Tom to touch her like that, but found she missed it when he removed his hand. “No, I couldn’t find it anywhere actually.” She frowned in disappointment. “I even had permission from Professor Yaxley to peruse the restricted section.” She mentioned the name of their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had a particular soft spot for Ivy. 

Tom practically growled in frustration. It was a low feral sound that made Ivy’s insides flutter pleasantly. She liked it when he let down his almost perpetual mask in front of her. It reminded her that no matter how much teasing she had to endure she would always be the one who knew Tom the best, the one that he valued out of all the other followers he had been collecting. 

“Good thinking with Yaxley, that fool would do anything for you. No matter, I’ll just have to ask Slughorn about Horcruxes, as you know, he has his favorites.” Tom grinned wildly to himself. 

Ivy found herself grinning back and the two of them trailed down the long staircases to meet with their Potions professor, not knowing as they did so, just how far the answer to that question would lead them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! All caught-up! This story is cross-posted on fanfiction.net under the same name. Now all chapters are poster on both sites and from now on I will update simultaneously. I will do my best to update every week or two, but I hope you all like it so far! Please comment and let me know your thoughts!


	10. Prefects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks for waiting patiently for this chapter, my apologies for it taking longer than usual. Now that we are in the later years of Hogwarts, the chapters will start slowing down and will include more detail. Please comment and subscribe and as always Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Excerpts from her works in this chapter were taken from Half Blood Prince, though I have changed several aspects of the chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Prefects

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present Day

Harry sighed morosely to himself. He reflected back to the latest meeting with Dumbledore that had occurred the evening before. The Headmaster had shown Harry two other memories in addition to the one about Ivy in Ravenclaw Tower. The first had been how Tom had killed his uncle and his own parents while the second appeared to have been a memory of his own Potion Professor’s that the man himself had tampered with. 

Now, Dumbledore had tasked it upon him to persuade Slughorn to relinquish the memory, un-blemished, into Harry’s hands. It was overwhelming to say the least. Harry rolled over in his four-poster bed, unsure of what else to do. He thought back to the second memory and recalled the way that Riddle had so eloquently inquired about his goal.

Hogwarts, Scotland, February 1942 

Harry looked around as Dumbledore appeared beside him in Slughorn’s office, more than fifty years in the past. Slughorn of course was much younger but was surrounded by the same sorts of luxurious items that Harry had seen before. The Professor was reclined in a comfortable winged armchair, one hand grasping a small glass of wine, the other searching through a box of crystallized pineapple. 

Half a dozen boys were sitting around Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his, and all in their mid-teens. The one and only girl, Harry immediately recognized as Ivy, occupied the one other comfortable chair in the room. Harry recognized Voldemort at once, and he was seated the closest to Ivy, though not close enough to seem improper. His was the most handsome face and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys. His right arm lay negligently upon the arm of his chair, mere inches from Ivy’s left.  
“Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?” He asked. 

“Tom, Tom if I knew I couldn’t tell you,” said Slughorn, though ruining the effect slightly by winking. “I must say, I’d like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.” 

Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks. Ivy smiled but said nothing though Harry saw that her face turned slightly pink as she did so.  
“What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn’t, and your careful flattery of the people who matter—thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you’re quite right, it is my favorite—”

As several of the boys tittered, something very odd happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog, so that Harry could see nothing but the face of Dumbledore, who was standing beside him. Then Slughorn’s voice rang out through the mist unnaturally loudly. “You’ll go wrong, boy, mark my words, you will bring everyone down with you including those closest to you.” 

Harry blinked and the fog disappeared and the memory continued as though nothing had happened. Suddenly the small golden clock on Slughorn’s desk chimed eleven o’clock.  
“Good gracious, is it that time already?” Said Slughorn. “You’d better get going, boys, Miss Petros,” He sent Ivy a dazzling smile, “or we’ll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or its detention. Same goes for you, Avery.”

Slughorn rose from his chair and busied himself at his desk as most of the students filed out. Voldemort, however, stayed behind. He watched the rest of the students, including Ivy leave. He met her eyes for a second and Harry thought he saw something odd in them, before he flashed back to regard his professor. 

“Look sharp, Tom,” said Slughorn, turning around and finding him still present. “You don’t want to be caught out of bed out of hours…not if you want to be a Prefect…”  
“Sir, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away, then, m’boy, ask away…”

“Sir, I wondered what you know about…about Horcruxes?” 

And it happened again, the dense fog returned along with Slughorn’s oddly loud voice which said, “I don’t know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn’t tell you if I did! Now get out of here and don’t let me catch you mentioning them again!” 

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present Day 

After that, Dumbledore had explained that the memory had been quite awfully tampered with and had then set Harry up with his task. 

The Boy Who Lived rolled over once more in his scarlet sheets. He re-played the scene again in his mind’s eye and found that he was not so much caught up by the strange term, Horcruxes, nor by the manipulation of the memory. No, he was caught up by the strangest impression that he got from young Voldemort’s expression when he looked at Ivy Petros. Because it seemed to Harry that Riddle had looked at her with deep affection, maybe even love. 

Harry almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of that idea. The idea that Voldemort had cared for anyone other than himself was ludicrous. Yes, Harry must have been mistaken or perhaps it was yet another manipulation of the memory. He shook his head and rolled over one final time, banishing both Voldemort and Ivy safely from his mind. 

Hogwarts, Scotland August 1942

Tom observed his Spartan room at the orphanage with a distinct mix of disdain, anger and resentment. After living in the horrid dump for the majority of his life, he was quite ready to leave it all behind him. That summer, just like all the rest since he and Ivy began attending Hogwarts had been thankfully punctuated with visits to the Malfoy and Black residences. However, he and Ivy had had to spend the last two weeks of that summer at the orphanage and it was beginning to really infuriate him. Tom hated feeling confined, hated feeling not in-control of his life.

Every summer was the same sort of thing and perhaps he should have grown used to it. But with the war between the European and American Muggles going into full swing he had to deal with the agitation of air raids and rationing of all pedestrian things. The war had been going on for several years and thankfully, Tom and Ivy had missed the worst of it while they were at the castle, but even now they had to endure moving to the air raid shelter. They had only been back for a few days and already they had needed to run to the shelter on two occasions. 

Tom flexed his pale fingers in irritation. The thought that he might die from some Muggle bomb was disgusting. The reality that he was suffering yet again at the hands of the choices of others was sickening to him. 

Tom took a moment to lash out with his irritation and viciously kicked the worn wall with his equally worn leather shoes. If only the Headmaster would have listened to his arguments and counter-arguments over whether or not he and Ivy be allowed to stay at Hogwarts. If they died simply due to some Muddle bombings he swore he would come back and haunt the old buffoon until the end of his days. 

Satisfied for the moment that the wall had served its purpose of helping him control his anger, Tom sat on his threadbare bed to ponder the task which lay before him and one that was central to all of his plans. Tom wanted to learn how to achieve immortality…that was if he survived the rest of the summer. He rolled his eyes at the irony of the problem.  
Achieving such a goal, however, was a question that had haunted him for months, ever since his alarmingly close call with the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. He, being enormously cleaver, recognized that he had come perilously close to death in that situation and had he died there would be no back-up plans, no do-overs. That would be it. And all the work he had done the last few years accumulating his band of followers, laying the groundwork for achieving lasting results in the wizarding world would be for nothing. And to top it all off, Ivy would be alone. 

Tom refused to accept that his life could be ended to easily, so abruptly…that the only thing that would be left of him would be a corpse rotting in the ground.  
And so, the research had begun. 

Tom knew enough about magic at the current point in his education to know that anything a wizard did that involved changing fundamental aspects of himself or herself would take Dark Magic. Of course, that was just the thing Hogwarts did not teach and he realized he needed to expand his horizons. After careful months of research and innocent questions posed to both Professor Slughorn, as well as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Yaxley, he had finally come up with a promising lead: Horcruxes. 

He had taken that one word and utilized the libraries of his Pawns to their fullest extent and he would enter the school year with all the knowledge he would need to make one of his very own. That was, if he didn’t die in a god-forsaken Muggle air raid first. He buried his hands in his hair as he let out a frustrated grown. 

A quiet knock interrupted Tom’s tumultuous thoughts. 

“Yes.” He bit out aggressively, still annoyed by the unfortunate circumstances in which he found himself. 

“Tom, can I come in?” Ivy said, her voice muffled through the door to his room. 

“Yes.” He said again, this time much calmer. “Always.”

Ivy opened the door and Tom was struck by how pale she was, though he admitted that it took nothing away from her beauty. Both of them were fifteen and posed to start their fifth year at Hogwarts. Though Tom liked to think himself above simple urges and ‘feelings’ he had to admit that he found Ivy to be the sole exception to those ideas. She hadn’t grown much over the past few years and her head came up to his chest. Her brown hair was tied back in a ribbon but when it was lose it swing nicely about her elbows. Her face had always been striking and she had always been a beautiful child but as she had grown, she had come into her beauty and Tom knew that they matched each other equally in looks. But as always her eyes where what truly captivated him, their shiny violet light seemed to be able to bring him out of even his blackest of moods. 

For a moment he recalled their first kiss which had occurred in the Chamber with smug appreciation, knowing that no other person would be able to capture Ivy so willingly. Since then they had exchanged similar affections though Tom was careful never to step over that thin line which had been so easily crossed by that piece of trash Hensley, or by her sick and perverted uncle. The two of them had that understanding. Just like Ivy had certain understandings of Tom. 

“You look pale.” A statement, a mere observation. 

Ivy bit her lip hesitantly and said quietly, “I’m hungry.” 

Tom’s hands curled involuntarily in his bedclothes, his rage that had been momentarily suppressed upon her arrival rose again to from a simmer to a full boil. “When was the last time you ate?” He spoke softly, but Ivy was no fool and understood the seriousness under his tone. 

But she hesitated and wouldn’t meet his eyes when she said, “Yesterday morning.” 

“What!?” He gritted his teeth until it hurt. “It’s almost dinnertime, why haven’t you gotten your rations?” 

Ivy looked down at the floor. “…I made Billy Stubbs fall off a ladder in the yard, he got a concussion and was sent to the hospital. Mrs. Cole took away my food until tomorrow…though she couldn’t prove anything.” 

Tom was momentarily taken aback. “…Why is this the first I’m hearing of this?” 

Ivy blushed. “You were reading, I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

Tom regarded the creature before him. She was the person who knew him best, yes. She was the only person he ever wanted to touch or to have touch him, sure. And it appeared that she still wanted to ensure that his needs were met before hers. It…satisfied him to on end. 

Tom didn’t bother to stop the slow smile that curled his handsome features.

Tom rose from the edge of his bed and walked slowly over to where Ivy was still standing at the front of the room. It took him two strides to get there, his long legs putting him upwards of six feet. He towered over Ivy, but he knew that she wasn’t afraid of him. For all her qualities, Ivy was not one that he needed to rule by fear, nor by intimidation. No, he needed none of those cheap party tricks with her. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he owned her. 

“Ivy…why did you make Stubbs fall off the ladder?” He pressed one long pale hand under her chin as he placed the other next to her head, effectively pinning her and forcing her to meet his eyes at the same time. 

She looked up at him and he couldn’t stop the ensuing chill that creeped up his spine every time her eyes met his. He looked into their purple depths and saw nothing but loyalty and devotion there. It thrilled him. 

“He called you a freak. I couldn’t stand for it.” She said with absolute resolution, her voice echoing in the sparse room. 

Tom blinked. Even though he knew Ivy was his most loyal chess piece, his Queen, he was taken aback that she would concuss an imbecile just for speaking ill of him. It caused him to smirk wildly at her and chuckle deep into his chest, all previous anger and ill-feeling completely forgotten. 

“That is perhaps, the nicest gift anyone has ever given me.” And he kissed her, deeply. 

Ivy responded immediately and placed her hands on his chest, gently pressing them into his skin. He could feel the heat of her body and he leaned into her and pressed her against the door. His upper body aligned with hers, his tall form causing her to balance on her toes to meet him. Tom opened his mouth, sweeping his tongue across her lips and the two began to deepen the kiss when a loud knock at the window startled both of them from their activity. 

Tom whirled around, eyes wide as he looked for the source of the noise. He unconsciously placed himself between Ivy and the other end of the room, not unlike what he had done when facing Dumbledore all those years ago. He saw a large brown barn owl at the window and immediately relaxed. 

“Looks like our Hogwarts letters are here. Along with the new book lists.” He stepped across the room and reached over to open the window, allowing the bird entrance. He was surprised to find that another owl, it was a screech, followed it. “Here’s yours.” 

He handed off Ivy’s letter and the two of them sat down on Tom’s bed to discover what Hogwarts had in store for them during the coming year. Tom glanced over momentarily and was pleased to see Ivy’s fair face flushed to a delicate pink from their activity. 

Smiling, he turned back to his letter and frowned slightly when he noticed it was heavier than usual. He opened it to find that along with his usual letter detailing needed school supplies the owl had brought a shiny silver badge. Puzzled he turned it over in his hands and realized it was a Prefect’s badge. 

“Tom! Look!” Ivy’s excited voice pulled his attention to her lap where sat a similar badge. 

Well, it seemed that Tom’s day was looking up after all.

The two sat for several minutes, admiring their new badges (the only difference, Tom noted, was their House crests, his had a Slytherin serpent while hers had a Ravenclaw eagle) before Ivy’s stomach let out an unexpected gurgle. She blushed a deeper shade of pink. Tom smirked and took her hand, taking a moment to brush her knuckles across his lips. 

“Well, first things first, let’s pay a visit to the kitchens…I think we need to have a word with Mrs. Cole.” Yes, Ivy was Tom’s Queen, his most valuable chess piece. And he always took care of his pieces. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, September 1942

“This way, up the stairs,” Ivy’s voice carried along the stone corridor without her really having to project, “We’re almost to the Common Room, that’s it, make sure to remember the way.” She continued forward, herding the new First Years who had been sorted into Ravenclaw with deep satisfaction. The male Prefect, Leo Nix, followed behind ensuring there were no stragglers. 

Ever since she had gotten her Prefects badge a week earlier she had been practically buzzing with pride. And to top it all off, Tom had gotten his badge as well! She smiled at the thought of the two of them finally being able to spend time together outside of class. It had been a problem in previous years due to them being in separate Houses, but it seemed that Fifth Year had been worth the wait. 

She continued with her duties and successfully oriented the new students and sent them on their way (all while pointedly ignoring her memories of her own orientation from Hensley years before) then practically skipped out into the almost-deserted school for her first Prefects meeting. 

The eight Prefects all met on the first night back to the castle in a classroom on the third floor. Ivy was accompanied by Leo, whom she hadn’t really had the chance to get to know. She observed him as they walked, exchanging only pleasantries. He was solidly built but still taller than her (which wasn’t hard to do as she hadn’t really grown at all during the summer) and had light blue eyes and caramel skin, clearly tanned from the summer sun. When he spoke he did so with a deep Scottish accent that she found hard to decipher when he spoke certain words. 

“Looking forward to anna classes this year, lass?” He asked pleasantly, his blue eyes trained forward as they walked. 

“I always look forward to the classes, but I had a particular interest in Charms and Ancient Runes. Yourself?” She turned and smiled at him and couldn’t help but notice that though he returned the smile, he didn’t turn to meet her eyes. 

“Ooch, yeh, always been a fan of Transfiguration and Magical Creatures, m’self.” 

Ivy eyes his arms which were as stocky as the rest of him and observed with detached interest that he seemed to be an outdoorsy sort of fellow. 

They continued their sparse conversation until they reached the meeting room when Leo politely opened the door for her and they entered. Ivy looked around and spotted Tom immediately, noticing that he was sitting with the female Slytherin Prefect, Olive Hornby, who Ivy had met several times and liked, though not as much as Patsy who was a year below them. 

Tom looked up at her entrance and caught her eye and silently indicated that she sit on his other side with Leo. She did so and Leo followed without comment. Once she was seated she observed that the two Hufflepuff Prefects, Marcus Burbage (whom she and Tom had both met on their first train ride to Hogwarts) and Jewel Tenor, were present. 

Finally her gaze was drawn to the other two figures in the room, both Seventh Years, the Headboy Septimus Weasley from Gryffindor and the Headgirl from Slytherin, Walaburga Black. 

Ivy observed the two with her usual cool logic and found through not-so-subtle body language that the two seemed to dislike each other. Ivy had never met Septimus but she knew Walaburga was Alphard and Cygnus’s older sister and imagined that their obvious dislike most likely expanded beyond the typical rivalry that existed between Slytherin and Gryffindor. 

She was distracted by her observation by the entrance of the Gryffindor Prefects, John Weasley, and Margret Abbott. The two entered rather loudly and Ivy caught Septimus’s slightly exasperated expression of the behavior of his younger brother. 

“Well, how nice of you to finally join us.” The Headboy said sarcastically. 

John stopped in mid-laugh and turned slightly red with the realization that his brother was annoyed with his lack of punctuality. “Oh…sorry, we had to get one of the First Years out of the trick step, he was so little that he was nearly sunk to his armpits, poor tyke. Won’t happen again I assure you.” He grinned at Septimus in what Ivy supposed was brotherly affection though she herself had never experienced the feeling. 

Septimus simply waved away the excuse and began the meeting. Ivy listened closely to the duties she would be expected to perform including the weekly patrol schedule which she would share with one other Prefect on a rotating basis along with her new-found privilege of deducting and awarding House points and giving other consequences such as detentions. She was warned by both the Headboy and Girl that should she abuse those powers she would face even worse consequences. 

Ivy had glanced to the side during this outline and saw Tom’s expression slip several times from the normal polite façade that he usually wore at school. She was quite familiar with Tom’s expressions by this point and was even more familiar with how he chose to hide them. Tom was a passionate person and his emotions ran much deeper than other people including herself. Where Ivy chose to push down extreme feelings due to what had happened to her in the past, Tom merely covered them up with socially acceptable mannerisms. 

During the meeting it was clear that the prospect of punishing others and having a measure of authority over the other students pleased him. Tom had always been like that, he strove to be completely independent and to control others. Ivy supposed that those facts should have bothered her but she was so used to it by now that she chalked it up to the difficulties they had both faced in their lives. They each chose to deal with them in different ways. 

Ivy chose to ignore them, push them down and not bother others. Tom chose to destroy those who hurt him or who made his life difficult. Besides, Ivy had done quite a few questionable things to others in her life and though she was many things, she wasn’t a hypocrite. She had used an illegal curse just two years before and it was Tom who had cleaned up the mess for her.

“Here are your current patrol schedules; you will each patrol from eight to ten each night, ensuring that no other students are out of bed.” Walaburga’s smooth alto cut through Ivy’s thoughts and she reached out to grab a parchment schedule that the Seventh Year offered her. 

Ivy observed the schedule and was somewhat disappointed to discover that she had to wait two whole weeks before she would patrol with Tom. The first week she would be pared with Leo and then the second week she would be pared with John. Then after Tom she would go with Marcus and the schedule would repeat. 

Once all of the Prefects had received a schedule, they were dismissed and Ivy’s first patrol as a Prefect began. She had to admit she was excited. It was too bad that it would turn out to be one of the worst years of Ivy’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes, it's about to get interesting. Quite a few things happen in fifth year and I'm excited to see how you dear readers will respond to how they unfold. A quick note about creative license. Because I am trying to tie-in two perspectives, one from Harry's POV as he discovers Voldemort's past, the other from Ivy and Tom's perspective, I have had to change a few things about how they are discovered.
> 
> For example, in Half-Blood Prince, Rowling has made it so the conversation with Slughorn happens after Tom has made his first two Horcruxes. I actually believe that it makes more sense in my story to have that conversation happen in fourth year before Tom makes them as he is studious and wouldn't attempt magic that could kill him without collecting as much information as possible beforehand. Therefore that's my reasoning for changing the timeline a bit. I hope it makes sense and feel free to ask my any questions and I will do my best to give you more detail.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Target Practice

Chapter 11: Target Practice

Hogwarts, Scotland, September 1942

Tom shut the heavy book in front of him with a satisfying snap. He rose from his worn seat in the library and began the trip back to the Slytherin common room. Finally, after months of research, he had finished his quest to learn how to create a Horcrux and how to begin the trip to immortality. His face split into an almost feral grin of triumph. In the end, the last piece of the puzzle had come from one of the books in Hogwarts’s own restricted section of the library. 

The irony was very apparent to Tom when he considered the lengths that the fool, Dumbledore, had gone to limit the teachings of Dark Magic within the school. But that hadn’t stopped him; Tom was not anything if not resourceful. After spending the summer combining the libraries of his pawns and using his own magical intuition, he had discovered the exact method for splitting his soul and sealing it to an object. 

In the end it was annoyingly simple, in fact, and only consisted of three parts. The witch or wizard wishing to create a Horcrux would procure an object and perform a series of spells that would allow it to become a vessel for a portion of their soul. Afterwards, they would then choose a victim, kill the victim, and then use the energy from the murder to sever his or her soul and affix it to the charmed object. 

The only tricky part that Tom could see was in fact how he would kill someone and ensure that the murder could not be connected with him. But, after giving it some thought he had answered that little problem with two words: the Basilisk. 

He had come to see the creature at least a few times a week since the beginning of term. Mostly, he came alone, but he did on one occasion bring Ivy to meet the serpent. He paused in his long strides as he remembered the occasion with a mixture of amusement and discomfort. 

He hated to admit it, but he had been worried. It was a necessary gamble on his part, he needed to ensure that someone else knew about the creature in the case that his hold over it would waver and he be placed in a more life-threatening situation than he was before. But even so, he had taken a large risk and put both himself and Ivy into a precarious situation. He hadn’t been sure how the serpent would react to someone other than the Heir, but as he so often was with Ivy, Tom ended up being surprised. 

“What do you mean you found Slytherin’s monster?” She had asked the year before. 

“I already told you, didn’t I? Do you really need me to repeat it?” He had answered testily, always hating to explain himself. 

“I can’t believe that it didn’t kill you, Tom.” She had said, her tone brooding and a little irritated. 

“Of course it didn’t, I’m the Heir, aren’t I?” He had smoothed away her thick hair with a brush of his hand, while at the same time smoothing away the worries that clouded her features. 

He looked down at that same hand that had touched her face those months ago and continued his long strides to the dungeons. When he had taken Ivy to meet the snake, he expected it to immediately try to kill her. After all, he alone could hear its incessant desire to ‘rip and kill’ and while he had been alarmed at first, he realized that the creature would only do so at his command. 

That had been most…satisfactory. 

Ivy, for her part, hadn’t been afraid in the least. She never had been put-off regarding his affinity for snakes, often crouching down to pet the little ones that came to him at the orphanage without the least bit of female squeamishness in her expression. But, given that this one was at least a hundred times the size of the largest garden snake that Tom had ever found, he had to admit that her lack of fear astonished him. He himself had been apprehensive of the creature the first time he had laid eyes on it. But then, he had been alone and caught completely off-guard. 

Yes, he supposed that the reason Ivy had always been unafraid of snakes was because they were synonymous with Tom himself. 

“What’s his name?” She had asked during the first week of the new term, her eyes screwed tightly shut as she placed one hand on the Basilisk’s smooth belly. 

“…His what?” Tom asked blankly, not really sure that he had ever heard of such a ridiculous thing. 

“His name, Tom. You can’t just expect to call him ‘Basilisk’ all day.” 

Tom regarded the girl in front of him, eyes carefully downcast so as not to draw the creature’s deadly gaze. He chose not to respond, instead inwardly urging the girl to continue down the same path with her thoughts. 

Ivy waited patiently for a few minutes and then continued, “Why don’t you ask him if you don’t know.” She stepped back from the monster and Tom reached out a hand to steady her so as she wouldn’t trip over the ancient stones. 

“What should I, your master, call you?” Tom asked it warily, the slippery syllables of Parseltongue skipping across his mouth with practiced ease. 

The Basilisk, who had been extending his long neck to sniff the main room in the Chamber, paused from his discoveries long enough to reply. “No name wassss given by firsssst Masssster, no name is needed.” 

Tom relaxed, fascinated by the Basilisk’s indication that he had been Slytherin’s first monster and had seemingly known the Founder personally and relayed his response to Ivy.

She hadn’t reacted immediately and they had finished their visit and were on their way back up to the main castle when she finally replied.

“Even if he doesn’t have a name, we should probably give him one.” 

“Why would we need to do that?” Tom asked, genuinely interested but a little exasperated. 

“Because, we can’t just call him Basilisk when we are in the castle, people will get suspicious. He needs a code name.” 

“…A code name?” 

Ivy nodded her face the picture of seriousness. 

“Fine. How about Bob.” Tom deadpanned. 

“Bob?”

“Bob the Basilisk.” 

Ivy laughed and Tom grinned slightly. It was rare that he made a joke, but it he enjoyed hearing Ivy laugh. 

Tom had to acknowledge, however, that there was some sense to her plan and the two of them had decided on one that they both found very fitting: the Basilisk would be called Mort, the French word for death. And death indeed, it would bring while at the same time bringing eternal life to its master. 

Satisfied with his reminiscing and scheming for the moment, Tom found himself at the entrance to the Slytherin Common room just in time for his Prefect rounds. With a jolt he realized with mild excitement that it would be his first time patrolling with Ivy. Quickly he took a cursory look in the dorms and nodded with satisfaction when he discovered that everyone was where they should be. 

He hurried back into the halls and found Ivy just as she was descending her last staircase to meet him. She looked up at his approach and grinned at him. 

“How are you?” She asked quietly, sliding her fingers through his in a gesture that caused his insides to wriggle most pleasantly. Like a basket full or snakes, or eels. 

“Just fine, today has been nothing but good news.” He quickly told her about his newest and final discovery concerning how to create a Horcrux. 

She nodded along, asking several relevant questions as the two of them walked along the corridors of the dungeons, the first half of their rounds for the evening. When he got to the part of the needed sacrifice was when Ivy appeared to get quiet, thinking very hard. 

“Who would you consider for the ritual?” She asked curiously as though they were discussing nothing more than who would be the next Minister for Magic and not murdering someone in cold blood. 

But Tom didn’t hear her question; instead he was focusing his sharp gaze on a bruise that he had just noticed on Ivy’s wrist.

“What’s this?” He asked calmly, raising her arm so he could examine it more closely. 

Ivy’s face darkened but she waited until he was done looking before she removed it from his grasp. 

“Nothing I can’t handle.” She said dismissively. 

Tom stiffened and locked eyes with her. He scanned her face but could see no sense of fear in it. He relaxed marginally, but still uttered a two-word command. 

“Tell me.” 

Ivy looked stubborn for a moment, but then she explained, haltingly at first, then more easily how she had been on the receiving end of numerous curses and hexes from other jealous students since the beginning of the term. It seemed to Tom, with the two exceptions of Patsy and Susan, that the entire female population of the school had it out for her.  
She explained that it had actually been occurring for the past two years but it had been minor, she had been able to ignore it, but now, with the added stress and responsibility of being Prefect, she was a down-right target. 

The bottom line seemed to be that because of her obvious association with Tom as well as several other good-looking Slytherin boys, Ivy had become hated by most of the girls at Hogwarts, and not too few of the boys as well it seemed. 

Tom listened with a mixture of amusement and anger. He had always known that he was good-looking, handsome, et cetera, but to learn that his looks had caused almost territorial bouts between women would have been comical if not for how it was impacting Ivy. He was amused because of how well Ivy had not only been keeping it to herself, but also because of how well she had been able to defend herself. He was angry for both of those same reasons. 

“Even Slytherin?” He asked careful to keep his anger at her previous silence in-check. 

Ivy nodded reluctantly. “But like I said, it isn’t anything I can’t handle. The Third year who gave me this,” she gestured to the minor bruise on her wrist, “will have a nasty little surprise for her when she wakes tomorrow.” Ivy smiled coldly at the thought. 

“What Third Year?”

“Myrtle Warren.” Ivy said dismissively. “Tom, it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you. It has nothing to do with me not trusting you.” This time she took both of his hands in hers and stepped closer to him. His eyes met hers again and he had to struggle to hold on to his temper. 

“But you didn’t tell me.” He said, irritation clear in his tone. 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” 

“The same way you didn’t want to let what Stubbs said about me over the summer bother you?” He challenged, arching one dark eyebrow at her. 

Ivy closed her mouth on what she had been about to say and Tom saw her cheeks turn red with embarrassment. Suddenly he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the thought of Ivy battling things on her own, like she had done as a scared child. He couldn’t stand the idea of anyone laying a hand on her. She was his, his alone to touch, to protect…even to hurt though the thought had never once crossed his mind. Whatever, when it came to Ivy all actions would be done by Tom alone. 

He took control and pushed Ivy into one of the alcoves at the end of the corridor. Effectively pinning her against his chest and the wall he aggressively pulled her face up to his and kissed her. It was sudden, forceful, and possessive and it took Tom a moment to realize that his brash actions may have crossed that invisible line he had discovered in Hogsmeade two years ago. 

But it seemed that once again, Tom was different, he was special, especially when it came to Ivy. She didn’t push him away, she didn’t curse him, instead, she melted against him. As he continued his kissing she moaned lightly in the back of her throat. 

Tom smirked against her mouth. Just as it should be. 

He removed his hands from the sides of her face and placed them on her waist. He drew her closer to him, playing with the portion of her shirt that was tucked into her skirt. Ivy’s hands were placed firmly on his chest, but she slowly snaked one to the back of his head and weaved her fingers in the strands of his dark hair. The effect was electrifying and with each touch of his scalp she sent shivers down his spine. 

Trying for something new, Tom moved his mouth to focus on the side of her neck, humming to himself with satisfaction as this new avenue caused several previously unheard noises to escape Ivy’s throat. 

Tom wasn’t sure how long they stayed in their alcove, maybe minutes, maybe decades, but suddenly he had to come up for air. He held her smaller form to his chest, both of them breathing deeply from the intensity of their activity. 

“P-patrol,” Ivy panted, “We still need to have a look around Ravenclaw tower and the surrounding corridors.” She looked up at him and Tom had to smile at her appearance. Her light skin was flushed, her hair was messy due to his touch, in short: she was perfect. 

“Yes, I agree. Besides, there are some things we still need to talk about.” 

Ivy paused from calming her appearance to look at him, guilt written on her face. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to b—”

“Well you did ‘bother’ me, as you put it.” He replied testily. “The same way you bothered me over the summer. I know you can take care of yourself, Ivy, especially after what you did to Hensley. That isn’t the point. It bothers me when I can’t keep track of my own things. It bothers me when you put yourself at unnecessary risk.” He said this briskly, dusting off all evidence of their would-be tryst, not even noticing what had popped out of his mouth. 

“‘Your things’?” she repeated, frowning at him. 

Tom immediately tensed. He had thought of Ivy as ‘his’ for years, possibly ever since she had first taken his hand after he had broken the brat’s arm that had taken her book back when they were kids. But Tom had never said it aloud. He wasn’t quite sure why he hadn’t chosen to share that bit of inner dialogue with her. Perhaps because it was some kind of violation of an obvious social standard that he had picked up but then discarded. After all, one didn’t ‘own’ another person, that was slavery, wasn’t it? But Tom didn’t view Ivy as a slave…he viewed her as a possession. His first real treasure and the one that was still the crown jewel of his collection. 

Tom looked back at Ivy, daring her to declare herself as anything other than his. 

“Yes,” he stepped back towards her, suddenly overcome with that need to possess her, to touch her, to feel her against him once again. “You. Are. Mine.” He said it slowly, deliberately, and in a tone that stated clearly that the fact wasn’t open to discussion or debate. 

Ivy’s face turned red again and she shyly looked at the floor. 

“I never wanted to be anyone else’s.” She said in that soft voice that he loved. 

Instant pleasure spread across Tom’s chest, a mixture of lust and triumph. It was as if an un-noticed weight had been lifted off his chest, as if he had won some kind of invisible contest. He hadn’t really thought of the possibility that Ivy would be with anyone else, after all, how could that happen? But having heard it from her own lips was like the cherry on top of a Muggle sundae. Tom shrugged off the sensation. He wasn’t afraid of anything and as long as he had Ivy…and his Horcrux, he might as well be invincible. 

“Of course. And what will you do differently?” He asked, his voice deceptively sweet. 

“I won’t put myself at unnecessary risk.” She repeated as the two continued on their rounds. 

“And?” Tom prompted. 

“And I’ll tell you if I have any problems…Mav.” She whispered his special name, the name only she called him and Tom didn’t doubt anything that she said. 

He smiled in response, a true, slightly crazed smile and as they completed their rounds. But his mind was elsewhere, focused on two other issues that their conversation had unleased. First, he needed to ensure that the rest of his House knew that Ivy was his and as such she would be rightly defended. And the second? Well, it looked like he knew who his Horcrux victim would be after all. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, December 1942

Somehow, it turned out that Ivy’s Fifth Year was full of nightmares as well as daydreams. The year before has shown her mere glimpses of the cruelty that jealous witches could concoct from simple rumor-spreading to sending her surprise curses and hexes. She had mistakenly assumed that once she was a Prefect, all that would cease. 

She had been far from correct. 

Within the first few months of the new term Ivy had suffered from five nose-bleed hexes, several broken bottles of ink that had mysteriously ruined multiple homework assignments, and to top it all off, someone had charmed her skirt to flap up every time someone said her name. It got so bad that she had resorted to layering wards over herself before she left the Ravenclaw dorm to ensure no poor first year got an unexpected view of her knickers. 

But even so, these things were only the tip of the bullying iceberg. The real danger existed in the traps. True, damaging curses that popped up seemingly from no-where. The first was a curse that spurted flame and nearly singed off her eyebrows, the second, had been a rather poorly cast bone-breaking curse that had resulted in the bruise that Tom had seen during the third week. 

But Ivy wasn’t one to go down so easily. 

True, it was harder for her to seek revenge being a Prefect, but she still managed. After about a month Ivy had deduced that the majority of her attackers were a group of Third-Year girls from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, each one with a mad crush on Tom. 

Their teamwork resulted in no-end of headaches and irritation for Ivy, but she had to admit that at least Tom had been instrumental in scaring the daylights out of Slytherin House the day after she had told him of her troubles. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, October 1942

Tom had known that something wasn’t right with Ivy. And Tom was almost never wrong. He first became suspicious when she received an uncharacteristically low grade on a Charm’s essay in their second week, and, while it was still a respectable score for other students, it wasn’t up to Tom’s usual expectations of her.

Then, Tom began to hear things. Things about Ivy that he couldn’t just dismiss as infantile gossip. They went something like, “That Petros is such a know-it-all and I can’t believe that she actually made Prefect” or, “Petros is always hanging around boys, I bet she’s really popular, if you know what I mean. I think I might like to slide into the sack with her.”

And there were other, crueler, things that Tom heard while he was in the men’s lavatory, or on his way to the Great Hall, things that made his knuckles clench and then crack from his white-hot anger at their lewdness. Always, after he would identify the speaker, he would wait until they were in a crowd of people and then shoot a nasty stinging hex their way. But despite his efforts to curb the unacceptable words of his peers, he seemed to be failing to end them. At least, not until he decided to enlist some help. 

After hearing from Ivy herself that her association with Tom was at the root of the problem, he decided that extending his own influence with in Slytherin House was the first step he would take. 

“Abraxus.” Tom intoned the next evening in the Slytherin common room as he twirled his wand deftly between his long fingers, “What do you think would happen to someone who idly spreads cruel rumors around the castle about another student? Perhaps one in Ravenclaw?” 

His voice, while still at a reasonable volume, created an almost instant hush among the usual chatter. At the change, he couldn’t help but smirk, it seemed that those in his house knew by now not to cross him. Over the past few years things—strange things—had happened to students who crossed him, and though no one could directly link it back to his actions, it was enough for any Slytherin to pause before doing so. 

The blonde who had been frowning over several smudged pages of his astronomy homework looked up immediately at the sound of Tom’s voice. 

He locked eyes with the taller boy and his thin lips curled in instant understanding. “Well, I think, that if someone were to be that unbelievable dense they would suddenly find themselves extremely…inconvenienced.” He dotted an ‘I’ with such force that he stabbed his quill through his parchment to complement his not-so-veiled threat. 

“Ah…yes, ‘inconvenienced’ as you say. Yes, I think that would be very fitting indeed. After all, aren’t most of us related to our dear friends in Ravenclaw?” He asked this question rhetorically, but he knew that by now everyone was listening and very aware of the quite obvious hints that Tom was dropping. 

“Of course,” Abraxus agreed, “My second-cousin is currently a Second Year and I know how tragic it would be if someone would stoop so low as to tarnish her reputation. Would anyone care to disagree?” He raised his light eyebrows, daring anyone in the room to challenge him. 

Of course no one did. 

“Oh, but my dear Abraxus, no one in the noble house of Slytherin would stoop so low to allow anyone to tarnish another student’s reputation…especially since there would be no possible gain in doing so.” Tom practically purred. 

And with that, the two boys packed up their homework and bid the rest of their House goodnight, Tom lingering enough only to lock eyes with several of his other chess pieces, making it clear that what he said was not an idle threat. 

He smirked to himself, not worrying for one moment that his wishes would be left unanswered. Now, he had only to wait and let his plan unfold. 

And he didn’t have to wait long. Soon, it was as if a silent war was being ragged between the houses, Slytherin and Ravenclaw on one side with Hufflepuff and Gryffindor on the other. Ironically, it seemed that the only Ravenclaw stupid enough to stand her ground was Myrtle Warren, the welp who had attempted to break Ivy’s wrist. She stood stoutly with her Gryffindor friends, totally oblivious that the conflict had escalated from petty female issues to a full-blown blood feud. 

At first it was clear to the instigators the reason behind the silent duels in the corridors and the hexing across classrooms while the professors were writing on the board, but after a few days it seemed no one would be able to trace anything back to Tom. Which was, of course, exactly the way he had planned it. 

Tom found that several times he almost laughed out loud at the sheer ease in which he was able to manipulate his peers. In fact, he found he obtained happiness from doing so. It was in one of these instances of amusement that Ivy chose to find him. 

“Tom, did you do all this?” He watched her delicate frame gesture wildly around at the barely-concealed spells and nasty looks being shot around the grounds of the castle.   
Tom didn’t answer her, but he knew that she could read his expression well enough to gleam her own answer. He expected her to be pleased, grateful, that he would so readily defend her honor, as well as his for choosing her to be by his side. 

For once, Ivy didn’t surprise him. She sat down by his side, gratitude gracing her elegant features. 

“Thank you for your help.” She signed, laying her head briefly on his shoulder. 

“Of course, didn’t I tell you I always take care of my things?” He replied softly, his breath ghosting across the skin of her cheek. 

Ivy smiled. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, December 1942

Ivy smiled at the memory of Tom’s assistance. Since then, the conflict had died down, especially after several students were sent to St. Mungo’s due to a rather nasty rash that had spread after mixing two illegal hexes during a duel. 

Luckily, that meant that Ivy’s conflicts had died down as well and with Christmas break approaching the next day, she was looking forward to spending some nice quiet time around the castle. It had been a tough several months but at least her trials had come to some good. They had allowed Tom to move forward with his plan. 

Ivy had known about Tom’s desire to create a Horcrux since he found out about the spell during the last year. She also knew the steps he would have to take to complete one, including killing another person. Ivy knew that Tom would have no problem making this choice, but she wasn’t sure how he would choose the victim. 

Ivy paused from her task, wrapping a singularly special present for the boy in her thoughts, to ponder why it was that the idea of killing another person to further their own ends didn’t seem to bother her? 

Not being able to come up with a satisfactory answer, she shrugged and returned to her project and her thoughts. Under the cover caused by the blood feud, Tom had taken the Basilisk out, each time testing both the creatures…talents, as well as his control. So far he had succeeded in only petrifying two students. 

Luckily, the teachers hadn’t been able to figure out exactly what had caused the attacks, but unluckily they had called for an immediate cease-fire shortly after the second petrification which meant that Tom was running out of time to make his move. 

Finally, Ivy finished her wrapping job. She looked at the little lumpy package and frowned. Maybe if she used a tidying spell she could make it look nicer? The chime of the clocked caused her to jump out of her considerations. 

Realizing the time, Ivy decided to forgo the last spell and rushed out of the dorm. That night was to be the last meeting of the Slugclub for the term and as Prefect she was in charge of making sure that the rest of her House could attend safely. Though, she shrugged in amusement. She knew that there would be no danger. Mort, the Basilisk, was snoozing away in his Chamber. After all, his Master was to be Ivy’s date for the evening and she planned to keep him singularly occupied.

She smiled at the thought. Ever since Tom had declared Ivy to be ‘his’ any doubts she had had about the two of them had been nicely swept away by the tide. She followed through with her duties, her mind clearly focusing on anything but being a Prefect in that moment. She finished up and headed into the party, eyes roaming the crowd with hungry anticipation for Tom. 

She spotted him in the back, slowly ushering in Slytherin students to the brightly lit room. He was just finishing with the last student when he straightened up and caught her eyes. He smiled at her, not a true smile, but one that showed that he was happy to see her. They met with a few quick strides across the room and Ivy couldn’t wait any longer.   
She thrust her present into his hands and he grabbed it looking startled. 

“What’s this?” He asked. They usually didn’t exchange presents, since both of them hadn’t a penny to their name. 

“For your project.” She said, and she didn’t doubt he knew exactly what she meant. 

He eagerly opened it, long fingers siding gently across the clumsily wrapped paper. He took off each piece, savoring the moment of the first official gift that she had given him until the item underneath was revealed. 

“A diary?” He asked. 

“Yes. It’s not very expensive, I purchased it myself, but the enchantments are my own invention.” 

That caught Tom’s attention. He loved anything one-of-a-kind. He opened the book and took out his wand, muttering several incantations until his eyebrows shot up into his hair. 

“What are these?” 

Ivy couldn’t help grinning. “The first one is a locking spell, only you or those who you allow can open the book. The second is a spell of my own invention, it allows you to write as much as you want and the book absorbs it. You can recall anything you wrote by asking the book and it will show it to you, and only you.” 

He blinked at the ordinary looking diary, turning it over and over in his hands as if he could somehow sense the magic in its pages. He finished his examination and looked down at Ivy, grinning as he responded. 

“How utterly perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please comment! I always enjoy hearing both praise and constructive criticism from my peers and readers. As always, this is cross-posted on Fanfiction.net.


	12. The First Horcrux

Chapter 12: The First Horcrux 

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present Day

Harry practically sprinted through the corridors to Dumbledore’s office. He had done it, thanks to Felix Felicis. He had finally succeeded in collecting the unaltered memory from Slughorn after month after month of failed attempts. Grinning, he stated the password and continued up to the Headmaster’s office door, pausing only long enough to knock, immediately opening the door as soon as he heard the man say ‘enter’. 

“Good gracious Harry,” said Dumbledore in surprise, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Sir—I’ve got it. I’ve got the memory from Slughorn.” 

Harry pulled out the tiny glass bottle and showed it to Dumbledore. For a moment of two, the Headmaster looked stunned. Then his face split in a wide smile. 

“Harry, this is spectacular news! Very well done indeed! I knew you could do it!”

All thought of the lateness of the hour apparently forgotten, he hurried around his desk, took the bottle with Slughorn’s memory in his uninjured hand, and strode over to the cabinet where he kept the Pensive. 

“And now,” said Dumbledore, placing the stone basin upon his desk and emptying the contents of the bottle into it. “Now at last, we shall see. Harry quickly…”  
Harry bowed obediently over the Pensive and felt his feet leave the office floor.

Hogwarts, Scotland, February 1942

Harry blinked several times to help orient himself and found the same scene that he had witnessed the first time, months ago. There was the much younger Slughorn, with his thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and his gingery-blonde mustache, sitting again in a verve pouf, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystallized pineapple. And there where the half-dozen teenage boys, and Ivy, sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them. 

Dumbledore landed beside Harry just as Riddle asked, “Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?” 

“Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn’t tell you,” said Slughorn, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, though winking at the same time. “I must say, I’d like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.” 

Riddle smiled, though Harry could see it didn’t reach his eyes; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks. Ivy laughed too, but didn’t seem to share the same blind adoration as the others in the room. Harry noted that it was more genuine and warm. The thought left him somehow cold. 

“What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn’t and your careful flattery of people who matter—thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you’re quite right, it is my favorite—”

Several of the boys tittered. Harry noted that one, a blonde one who looked a bit like Malfoy, smirked atrociously though no-one else seemed to notice. 

“—I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry.” 

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but they all seemed to look to him as their leader.   
“I don’t know that politics would suit me, sir.” He said when the laughter had died away. “I don’t have the right kind of background, for one thing.” 

A couple of the boys smirked at one another, Harry noticed that Ivy seemed to shift uncomfortable at Riddle’s comment. Harry was sure, however, that they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader’s famous ancestor. 

“Nonsense,” said Slughorn briskly, “couldn’t be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you’ll go far, Tom. I’ve never been wrong about a student yet.” 

The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn’s desk chimed eleven o’clock behind him and he looked about. 

“Good gracious, is that the time already?” You’d better get going boys, Miss Petros, or we’ll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or its detention. Same goes for you, Avery.”

One by one, the boys filed out. Ivy was last and again Harry watched the strange exchange of emotions from Riddle to Ivy and it left him feeling as uneasy as it had the first time. Finally, only Slughorn and Tom were left in the room. 

“Look sharp, Tom,” said Slughorn, turning around and finding him still present. “You don’t want to be caught out of bed out of hours…not if you want to be a Prefect…” 

“Sir, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away, then, m’boy, ask away…”

“Sir, I wondered what you know about…about Horcruxes?” 

Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass. 

“Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?”

But Harry could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork. 

“Not exactly, sir,” said Riddle. “I came across the term while reading and I didn’t fully understand it.”

“No…well…you’d be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that’ll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that’s very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed,” said Slughorn. 

“But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean , a wizard like you—sorry, I mean, if you can’t tell me, obviously—I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could—so I just thought I’d ask—”

It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it was overdone. He, Harry, had had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognize a master at work. He could tell that Riddle wanted the information very, very much; perhaps had been working towards this moment for weeks. 

“Well,” said Slughorn, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on the top of his box of crystallized pineapple, “well it can’t hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed a part of their soul.” 

“I don’t quite understand how that words, though, sir.” Said Riddle. 

His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his excitement. 

“Well, you split your soul, you see,” said Slughorn, “and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one’s body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot due, for the part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form…” 

Slughorn’s face crumpled and Harry found himself remembering words he had heard nearly two years before: “I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the merest ghost…but still, I was alive.” 

But Riddle’s hunger was now apparent: his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing. 

“How do you split your soul?” 

“Well,” said Slughorn uncomfortably, “you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature.” 

“But how do you do it?” 

“By an act of evil—the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage.   
He would encase the torn portion—”

“Encase? How?” 

“There is a spell, do not ask me, I don’t know!” said Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. “Do I look as though I have tried it—do I look like a killer?” 

“No, sir, of course not,” said Riddle quickly, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to offend…”

“Not at all, not at all, not offended,” said Slughorn gruffly. “It’s natural to feel some curiosity about these things…Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic…” 

“Yes sir,” said Riddle, “What I don’t understand, though, —just out of curiosity—I mean, would one Horcrux be of much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn’t it be better, make yourself stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn’t seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn’t seven—?”

“Merlin’s beard, Tom!” yelped Slughorn. “Seven, Isn’t it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case…bad enough to divide the soul…but to rip it into seven pieces…”

Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell he was regretting entering into the conversation at all. 

“Of course,” he muttered, “this is all hypothetical, what we’re discussing, isn’t it? All academic?” 

“Yes sir, of course,” said Riddle quickly. 

“But all the same Tom…keep it quiet, what I’ve told---that’s to say, what we’ve discussed. People wouldn’t like to think we’ve been chatting about Horcruxes. It’s a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know…Dumbledore’s particularly fierce about it…” 

“I won’t say a word, sir.” Said Riddle and he left, but now before Harry had glimpsed his face, which was full of the same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human…

Hogwarts, Scotland, March 1943

Myrtle Warren was a particularly unattractive Mudblood, Tom thought acidly. She also appeared to be clumsy, overweight and not particularly bright. He couldn’t fathom how she had been sorted into Ravenclaw of all Houses; she was clearly a moron and therefore belonged in Hufflepuff…or better yet, not in Hogwarts at all. 

He had taken careful observations of these traits, and, over the last several months, he had been able to exploit them, all the while carefully spinning a web in which to catch his prey. 

Tom had decided at the beginning of the year that she would be his first Horcrux victim. Not only was she a lowly Muggleborn, but after her supreme misjudgment of her interest in him and taking it so far as to wage a petty war against Ivy, he could think of no-one more suited for the task. 

After careful research and preparation, he had successfully cast the spell that was needed to transform the diary that Ivy had gifted him into the vessel that would contain his soul: his first Horcrux. After learning about the piece of dark magic, Tom had done what he tended to do best: perfect the idea. Yes, he had decided after careful thought and more research that he would make seven Horcruxes, each one out of a powerful magical object. And how fitting it was that Ivy had enchanted the diary to be the optimal item for his first try. 

He grinned as he surveyed his hiding place one last time, ensuring that everything was ready. The majority of the school was outside attending a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. As a Prefect, Tom had been sent to the castle to ensure the safety and security of the students, considering the amount of attacks that occurred in the first term. 

Those ‘attacks’ had been distractions, decoys, and he had deliberately ordered Mort, the Basilisk, to cease all activity since winter break so as to lull the school and teachers into a false sense of security. Now, on this day, Tom would make his real move. 

He was in position and was only waiting for what he knew would come. For his plan to work, he needed his fellow Prefect, Olive Hornby, to lend her own set of skills. Hornby was built like an English bulldog, her feet even pointed towards each other when she walked. She was short but very stocky and more to the point, very fond of bullying. Though luckily for both of them she was very good at hiding it and thus presented quite a well-put-together front to the school staff. 

It had only taken a bit of suggestion on Tom’s end to point her on Warren’s tail. She had been at it for weeks, teasing the Third-Year about a variety of things including her glasses. Finally, she had pushed her to the breaking point. Tom had only to make his move. 

The only catch to Tom’s plan was how exactly to get the wretch to come to the second floor girl's lavatory instead of one of the ones closer to the entrance and grounds, the closest ones from the Quidditch pitch. That part of the plan, Tom had to admit, was a little bit of brilliance on his part. He had placed himself as bait. 

Tom’s thoughts stilled as he heard approaching footsteps. He had positioned himself in an empty classroom next to the bathroom. He watched the hallway intently and wasn’t disappointed when he saw a short blur rush by, her hands up to her face which was moist and puffy from crying. Tom had to suppress a shudder of revulsion. He couldn’t stand it when other people cried. Even when he was at the orphanage the sound of the younger children crying always gave him a splitting headache. He spared himself a moment of relief that Ivy never cried. 

He waited until he heard the telltale sound of the bathroom door snapping shut behind her. He waited another few minutes and then made his move. He stepped out of the classroom, quickly scanning the hallway for any sort of witnesses, and finding none he opened the door of the bathroom, whispering a quick “Alohamora” as he did so. 

“Ms. Warren? Are you alright? I’m…I’m sorry to intrude but I saw you run this way…” Tom had to strain to keep the amusement out of his voice. It wouldn’t do to give the game away so early. 

“What? Oh! To—I mean Riddle. I—I’m fine. I wasn’t expecting to meet you for another half an hour.” Warren whirled around, her face clearly showing signs of upset. She had brown eyes, so dull in comparison to Ivy’s that it made Tom almost curl his lips in distaste. 

“You don’t look alright,” said Tom, false concern painted all over his features. “Did something happen?” He briskly avoided her query, instead hoping to distract her from the fact that his advancing steps had brought them closer to the entrance to the Chamber…and further from the door. 

“No, nothing!” She hastily wiped her face, pathetic in her attempts to erase all signs of her tears, moving backwards to place at least some distance between them.   
“I don’t believe you.” He said this simply, but was serious all the same. 

Warren bit her lip, casting her eyes down and refusing to meet his gaze. “I…I’ve been having problems with Hornby.” She said softly, as though assuming her words would anger Tom. 

On the contrary, they amused him greatly. 

“What sort of problems?” He asked softly, moving closer to her than ever before. They were only feet from the entrance of the Chamber now. 

“Well…I don’t want to speak badly of your Housemate….” She trailed off but when Tom didn’t respond she added. “But she had been misusing her privileges as Prefect. She has been teasing and bullying me for weeks. I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you.” She looked up at him, a sort of pleading admiration plastered on her face. 

The sight of it made Tom want to hurry up and kill the idiot girl. 

“Oh. Well, that’s too bad.” He said simply. 

“Too bad?” She echoed, confusion replacing the love-sick look she had been wearing only seconds earlier. 

“I was hoping you might have something more interesting to say.” 

Warren blinked at him like a dumb, brown-eyed cow. “Interesting? I just told you that your fellow Prefect has been torturing me! What’s wrong with you?” 

“Wrong?” Tom cocked his head to one side as he considered her question. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. After all, I’m not the pathetic Mudblood in this conversation.” 

“…What?” Warren’s eyes had begun leaking again. Tom had to repress the urge to step back. 

“B-but you w-were the one who asked me to meet you today.” Warren sobbed out. “I-I thought—”

“What?” He interrupted. “Thought that I could ever find a pathetic and stupid girl like you appealing? Please. You aren’t even worth the time I’m giving you.” 

Warren looked as if Tom had just slapped her. 

“Then why did you ask me here? I thought…I thought you liked me.” She sobbed quietly, completely bewildered. 

Tom chuckled deep and low in his throat and then fixed Warren with a predatory smile. 

“Like you? Oh no, no nothing could be more disgusting. I asked you here to kill you.” 

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present Day

Harry sat bold upright in his bed, his forehead beaded with slick sweat. He shivered, but not so much from the cold but from the memory of his dream. Though it was quickly fading, he recalled that it had been about one of his memories from his second year at Hogwarts. He had been talking to Myrtle, she had been explaining how she had died at the hands of the Basilisk who was controlled my Tom Riddle. 

"Ooooh, it was dreadful, it happened right in here. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny, a different language; I think it must've been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then... I died."

But reflecting back on his dream, he saw flashes of the same scenario, but the details were different somehow, altered. He saw Myrtle clearly talking to Riddle, a mixture of emotions, first embarrassment, then attraction, confusion, and finally, fear. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of the experience. He only knew that Myrtle hadn’t been completely truthful about her relationship with the young Riddle. 

More conflicted than ever, Harry lay back down and tried to force himself back to sleep. Though of course, he wouldn’t find much rest for the night. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, March 1943

Ivy followed Leo back to the castle, the two Ravenclaw Prefects herding their charges in front of them like an overly-excited flock of sheep. 

“Can you believe that game?”

“I know! So wicked!” 

“I can’t believe how great that was!” 

Ivy found herself grinning along with her Housemates having also enjoyed the game. The only downside was that because she and Tom were both Prefects they couldn’t sit together and watch. Though, now that she thought about it, she hadn’t even seen a glimpse of Tom in the crowd. Confused, she looked behind her to see the sea of green and black which signaled the mob of Slytherin students moving slowly across the field, slightly more subdued due to Gryffindor’s daring win. 

Frowning, she spotted Olive Hornby easily, but for the life of her she couldn’t seem to find Tom. 

Suddenly she was jerked back around by Leo who had grabbed her arm suddenly. She froze instantly at the unexpected touch but when she looked up at her male counterpart she could see that he wasn’t looking at her, but instead was staring open-mouthed at the castle in front of them. Ivy whipped her head back around towards Hogwarts and found her jaw dropping as well. On the front steps was a sight to be seen. 

Headmaster Dippet, flanked on either side by Professor Dumbledore as well as the man whom she knew to be the current Minister for Magic. The three men were standing, grimly, facing the students who by this point had stopped cold. 

Ivy danced nervously from foot to foot, hoping against hope that this had nothing to do with Tom, or with Mort. But she knew that she was most likely mistaken. 

“Students,” Dippet’s voice boomed, marginally amplified across the grounds, “as you are all aware, Hogwarts has been subject to several attacks of a most egregious nature over the academic year. We were hopeful, after several sweeps from the Ministry and the weeks we have had reprieve that the attacks had stopped and we would be safe once more. I sincerely regret to tell you that we were mistaken, and Hogwarts is no longer safe for students.” 

At those last words Ivy’s blood ran cold. Not safe? Then where are Tom and I to go? 

“As such,” the Headmaster continued, “We are making preparations to close the school by the end of the week and you will be sent back to your homes and families. We are doing what we can to ensure your educations can continue, and will contact you when the arrangements can be made. For now, everyone is to report to the Great Hall and wait for further instructions.” 

All at once the grounds erupted with protests, sounds of confusion and a million questions. Ivy found herself responding as if she was under the Imperius curse, performing her duties with mechanical efficiency. So out of sorts was she, she didn’t hear Tom until he had grabbed her hand and spoke right into her ear. 

Startled, she jumped about a foot in the air and had to stifle a squeak of alarm. 

“Ivy! Are you alright?” His voice sounded odd to her, almost tiny as if it were coming through a metal pipe. She turned to look at him and immediately knew something was off. He certainly looked like Tom, but he was pale, paler than usual. He looked disheveled, like he had run a marathon and hadn’t bothered to shower. 

“I think I should be asking you the same question.” She replied, eying the man in front of her with suspicion mixed with concern. Was he the one responsible for this mess after all?  
Tom, already catching on to her question, only grinned by way of response. 

Ivy gasped, drawing both hands to her mouth. The action caught the eye of several other students around him and she immediately flushed. She hated drawing attention to herself outside of the classroom. 

“Tom…you didn’t…?” She whispered to him. 

“Not here, later, on rounds.” 

“There won’t be any rounds tonight. We have to stay put. Here,” she led him to the side, doing her best not the jostle the crowd of chattering witches and wizards too much. Finally, they found a relatively clear corner of the Great Hall, most of the students were milling around the middle of the space, the long tables moved to the side with one swipe of Professor Dumbledore’s wand.

For the first time, Ivy saw a bit of fear enter Tom’s face. “…why?” He asked the question with an almost child-like innocence and Ivy hated that she would be the one to break the news to him. 

“Because, Hogwarts is being closed.” 

Ivy couldn’t believe it, but Tom grew paler. 

“Shit.” He breathed. 

Ivy stared at him. For Tom to curse was one thing, for him to do it in public was another thing entirely. 

“What did you do?” Ivy ground out between her teeth. “Tom, we have to go back to the orphanage, we can’t even finish out the school year.” 

Several emotions crossed with quick succession across his face and if Ivy didn’t know him so well, she would never have been able to pick them out. The first was real fear, the second was panic, and the third was a kind of fierce determination. 

“I’ll take care of it.” He said shortly, not meeting her eyes. 

“Take care of—”

“I said I’ll take care of it.” He cut her off, and shouldered past her, something he had never done before. 

“What the hell is going on?” She asked the empty space around her. But even as she received no answer right then, Ivy would have all her questions answered within the next twenty-four hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As always, I don't own Harry Potter and excepts from this chapter are from Half-Blood Prince and Chamber of Secrets.


	13. Taking Care of Business

Chapter 13: Taking Care of Business

Hogwarts, Scotland, March 1943

Tom’s head was spinning. He felt an odd mixture of nausea, panic…and oddly, power. His steps quickened through the deserted hallways as he tried to figure out a solution to his latest problem. He had succeeded in creating his Horcrux, the journal itself was safely stowed in the waistband of his pants and he could feel it against the skin of his back with every step. But in his blind fervor to accomplish his goal, he neglected one huge detail: what would happen when everyone found out about the Warren bitch. 

His lip curled at the thought. It seemed that while Mort’s desire to kill was near inescapable, once he had actually killed a person, he didn’t want to eat the remains. Tom had been so flummoxed at the snake’s odd preferences that he did the next best thing he could think of at the time: he left the girl there, her body a strange mix of petrification and blood. He then covered up any and all evidence that he had ever set foot into the bathroom, including sealing the Chamber and forcing the Basilisk back into a state of slumber. 

He had just managed to exit the lavatory and make his way to the Quidditch pitch when he had nearly been spotted by Olive Hornby. His fellow Prefect, though useful, really had poor timing. It had been her who had found Warren’s body, lying broken and bleeding from every conceivable orifice. Tom had heard Hornby’s scream from outside in the hallway and immediately made his escape.

Thankfully he was able to merge back in with the crowd coming into the Great Hall and managed to hear the unacceptable news from Ivy. Tom…regretted his brash actions to a certain extent. Not of course, for killing the Mudblood, but choosing to do so in such a hasty fashion. It was too bad that the snake turned out to be a bit of a paper tiger; Tom would have used the extra time to formulate a better plan and prevent the Headmaster from involving the Ministry. 

Tom slowed in his steps and made a quick decision. He would go straight to the source of power at Hogwarts; he would go to the Headmaster. Dippet had always had a soft spot for Tom. After all, who wouldn’t love a straight-laced model student? 

Tom smirked. He would see what he could do. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, April 1943

It had been three days since Tom had sent the Headmaster his letter. Since then he had done all he could to find an appropriate excuse, reason, or scapegoat on which he could pin the death of Myrtle Warren. All the students had been forced to bunk together in the Great Hall since the announcement. All students were escorted to and from their classes with teachers and Prefects on guard. No one was permitted to go out alone. 

That was perhaps the very reason why Tom’s eye had landed on a particularly large Gryffindor Third Year. The boy (if you could call him that) was almost the complete opposite of Tom from looks to magical talent. Tom thought his name was Hugo? Harris? Or something almost as laughable as that. But on the second evening he was awakened by the boy stumbling out of the hall on his own in the middle of the night. 

Immediately suspicious, Tom had followed him. And what he had seen had made his blood boil with satisfaction and the beginnings of a plan began to form in his brilliant mind. The plan was so perfect in fact, that it managed to distract him from Ivy’s mood which had turned down-right sour since she had found out about his hand in the school’s fate.   
It wasn’t the fact that Tom had performed dark and illegal magic that had made Ivy upset, it was the result that they had been saddled with. Tom knew this intellectually but he tried not to think about it too much. If Ivy was upset with him and he thought about it for too long it tended to get under his skin and Tom never let anything under his skin. 

“Riddle.” Said a voice. 

Tom jerked up from his revelry to find the Headboy, Septimus Weasley regarding him. 

“Did you hear me?” The read head asked, amusement licking his freckled features. 

“No, sorry. What can I help you with?” Tom asked politely but inwardly found himself annoyed to be brought out of his brooding. 

“I said that Dippet wants to see you in his office. I’m to escort you there.” 

“Oh, well thank you, I don’t need the escort.” Tom replied curtly. 

“Sorry mate, I know you are probably loads better than me at defense but it’s the current policy.” Weasley shrugged and placed his hands in his pockets and turned back down the hallway. 

Tom decided not to protest any further and allowed the older boy to escort him. But before he left the Great Hall, he spied out of the corner of his eye a burly shape retreating once more into a side corridor. 

©©©

Tom walked in silence as he followed the Head Boy and was then left at the entrance to the Headmaster’s study, Weasley only giving him a jaunty wave before retreating to the Great Hall. Tom watched his retreating back and then took a deep breath in order to help him put on his best ‘Prefect’ act, before knocking on Dippet’s door.

“Enter,” said the old wizard in a feeble voice. 

Tom entered, removing his uniform wizard hat as he did so. Useless thing. 

“Ah Riddle,” said the Headmaster. 

“You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?” said Tom, making his voice quiver a bit as he did so. It wouldn’t do to appear too confident; he wanted the man to think he had the upper hand. 

“Sit down,” said Dippet. “I’ve just been reading the letter you sent me.” 

Took you long enough, Tom thought acidly. But outwardly he merely said, “Oh,” and sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly. 

“My dear boy,” said Dippet in a tone that Tom assumed was meant to be kind, “I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?” 

“No,” said Tom at once. “I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than to back to that—to that—”

“You live in a Muggle orphanage during the Holidays, I believe?” said Dippet curiously. 

“Yes sir,” said Tom and couldn’t help the genuine blush of shame that darkened his features. 

“You are Muddle-born?”

“Half-blood, sir,” said Riddle, hating every word he uttered. “Muggle father, witch mother.”

“And are your parents—?” 

“My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage that she lived just long enough to name me—Tom after father, Marvolo after my grandfather.”

Dippet made an appalling sound with his tongue. It made Tom want to rip it from his scrawny neck. 

“The thing is, Tom,” he signed, “special arrangements might have been made for you…and for the other one in your situation? Ivy Petros if I’m not mistaken? But under the current circumstances…” 

“You mean all these attacks, sir?” Supplied Tom. 

“Precisely,” said the Headmaster. “My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in the light of the recent tragedy…the death of that poor little girl….You will be much safer by far at our orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the—er—source of all this unpleasantness.”

Tom’s eyes widened. This was his chance to dangle the bait in front of the Headmaster like a dead rat in front of a fat cat. 

“Sir—if the person was caught—if it all stopped—”

“What do you mean?” said Dippet with a satisfying squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair. “Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?” 

“No sir,” said Tom quickly. 

Dippet deflated and sank back into his chair. 

“You may go, Tom…” 

Tom slid off of his chair and vacated the office. He stopped for a moment, calculating his next move. Finally satisfied with his choice, he shot down the spiral staircase, hoping against hope that his victim was still where he needed him to be. 

As he rounded the corner and came upon the entrance hall, none other than Dumbledore stood as if he were waiting just for him. Tom stopped short. 

“What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?” 

“I had to see the headmaster, sir.” Tom replied, doing his best to keep his anger from his voice. It had to be the old fool who would hold him up! 

“Well, hurry off to bed,” said Dumbledore, giving Tom one of his famous penetrating stares. Tom immediately strengthened his Occlumency shields. “Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…” he signed heavily and waved Tom away like one would a pesky fly. 

Tom glared after the wizard, but waited until he was quite alone before continuing his journey down to one of the extra potions classrooms. It was one that Slughorn only utilized when he had to separate his advanced potions students while studying for N.E.W.T.S. The torches hadn’t been lit but thanks to Tom’s investigation the day before, he knew it to be most certainly unoccupied. 

Tom pushed the door fully open he pondered a bit more before and finally deciding that he could afford to wait and see if his prey would come waltzing into his open jaws. So Tom sat. He sat for almost an hour and his legs were beginning to go numb, but this time his efforts were rewarded. He could hear someone creeping along the passageway outside. Tom heard the person, it had to be a large person, pass beyond the room where he was hiding and continue forward. He crept out of the room and followed the figure.   
Tom waited until the figure had chosen a new room in which to hide when he made his presence known. 

“C’mon…gotta get yeh outta here…C’mon now…in the box…”

Tom stepped quickly into the room. “Evening, Hagrid,” Tom stated sharply. 

Hagrid jumped back from the box, causing the lid to slam shut as he did so. 

“What yer doin’down here, Riddle?” 

Tom stepped closer, hiding his smile as he did so. It was too perfect. 

“It’s all over,” he said. “I’m going to have to turn you in Hagrid. They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don’t stop.” 

“What d’yeh—” the oaf stuttered. 

“I don’t think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don’t make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and—” Tom said this part truthfully because he knew it was the absolute truth. Hagrid may have been big, but he wasn’t harboring the true monster. 

“It never killed no one!” his voice shook but it didn’t hide the odd noises coming from the wooden box behind him. 

Tom immediately put himself on guard. 

“Come on, Hagrid.” Said Tom as he moved closer. “The dead girl’s parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…” 

“It wasn’t him!” roared the boy, his voice echoing into the dark passage. “He wouldn’t! He never!”

That’s it, yell, scream, let someone come and find you. Tom thought with great satisfaction. This was going much better than he had planned. 

“Stand aside,” Tom said as he drew his wand. 

He fired off a simple stunning spell. He didn’t want it to actually do any harm, only scare the creature into some kind of reaction. The corridor was hit with the startling red light. 

Hagrid hit the wall behind him with such force that it knocked the box behind him, releasing possibly the ugliest creature that Tom had ever seen. 

A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of mad eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers—Tom raised his wand in true alarm this time. Of all the creatures he hadn’t expected the idiot boy to try to tame an Acromantula. But the massive spider was too quick and charged Tom, knocking him flat and running out into the hall. 

Tom scrambled to his feet, raised his wand but was knocked over once again by Hagrid. “NOOOOOOO!” the boy screamed right into Riddle’s ear. Just then, the massive weight of the younger boy was pulled off of Riddle by the combined efforts of Professors Slughorn, Dumbledore, and Yaxley. 

“What on earth is going on here?” Slughorn demanded his voice wheezy from excursion. “And what was that thing that passed us in the hallway? Scared the living daylights out of me, I tell you.”

Tom allowed himself one, short smirk before launching at once into his prepared explanation. 

And that was how Tom Riddle saved Hogwarts. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, June 1943

A lot had happened to Ivy during her fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had survived a vast amount of bullying, had met a Basilisk, and had almost seen the school closed forever and on top of that had somehow survived her O.W.L’s. But despite all of that Ivy thought that the most bizarre thing to have happened to her was that she and Tom had had a fight. 

Sure, it had only lasted until his scheming had successfully stopped the school from shutting down and had awarded him a trophy for ‘Special Services to the School’ but Ivy hadn’t talked to him for three whole days. 

They had been the loneliest and longest of her life. 

The entire time she had been warring with herself. On one hand she had wanted to run to Tom and apologize for blaming him for the mess, but on the other hand she had felt genuinely justified for her anger. Tom, in his blind quest for immortality and power, had jeopardized both of their educations and consequently their futures. It was a hard pill to swallow, how close they came to spending the rest of their underage years in the orphanage. 

Luckily though, Tom had done some quick thinking and saved the school. Ivy barely spared a thought for the boy, Hagrid, who had taken the fall for Tom’s actions. After all, it seemed he hadn’t been very talented and Tom had confided in her his suspicions that he had only been half-human at the very least. 

Ivy shuddered. Say what you want about Muggleborns, she thought, at least they were the same species as wizards. 

In any case, she had apologized to Tom for blaming him and the two had been as close as ever. Tom had smirked at her, teasing her for doubting that he would take care of everything like he always did. Since then the two had thrown themselves into studying for the fifth year exams and she had since put the incident in the back of her mind. 

Ivy yawned hugely as she turned over in her bed. It was the last full-day of term and she was taking a few more minutes to get up than usual, spending her time mulling over the events of the previous year. Ivy was an introspective person by nature and she liked to think about things including the past. 

She smiled softly to herself, thinking that for all their similarities, she and Tom were really quite different. Tom really only thought about the present and the future. 

Finally feeling like she was rested, Ivy rose and dressed quickly. She had already packed most of her things for the train ride back to London which would come the next day. Her O.W.L.’s had been completed the day before and she thought that all of her studying and quizzing with Tom and Abraxus had paid off. She thought for sure she would receive O’s on all of her subjects. 

Moving at a leisurely pace through the hallways she paid no attention to the first and second years that were still going from class to class in an attempt to make up the work they missed as a result of the Warren girl’s death. Finally she made it to the Great Hall just as the owls were arriving with the morning mail.

Ivy ignored it as she usually did since there were never any letters for herself nor for Tom. She sat down heavily at the Ravenclaw table, right next to Susan who was just finishing reading her copy of the daily profit. 

“All done with that?” Ivy asked with mild interest. She couldn’t remember the last time she had read the Profit due to all the studying. 

“Mmm.” Susan agreed through a mouthful of toast. She passed Ivy the newspaper and the violet-eyed girl scanned the front and inside pages as a leisurely pace. 

That was until she spotted something that made her blood run colder than the Black Lake in December. 

 

Gaunt Family Sent to Prison Due to Abuse of Muggles and Subsequent Harassment of a Ministry Official   
Today in the village of Little Hagleton, Marvolo and his son Morfin Gaunt were sent to Azkaban due to the son’s unprovoked assault of a Muggle by use of a stinging hex. After said attack, both son and father were then arrested and sent to Azkaban after a verbal and magical altercation with a ministry official. Their current sentence is set for three years but may be longer if either engages in further illegal behavior. So far the Ministry worker involved in the conflict has refused to comment. 

 

Ivy stared at the newspaper for several minutes, reading and re-reading the small article on the sixth page. But what really caught her off-guard more than anything was the date of the paper: October 15th, 1925. 

“You do know that’s an old paper, don’t you? I’m just taking a look at some of the older articles to help Professor Bins with a project for next term.” Susan’s pleasant voice cut through the blizzard that was assaulting Ivy’s brain. 

“Yeah…yeah I noticed the date.” 

“History is so fascinating, isn’t it? If you’re done, can I have it back? I need to finish reading it before I return it to the libraries archives.” 

“Yeah...actually, would you mind if I borrowed this?” 

“I guess not, but can you make sure to give it back before dinner? I don’t want that old bat of a librarian on my back all next year.” 

Ivy didn’t even give Susan another glance; she simply stepped over the Ravenclaw table’s bench and went to find Tom. It seemed that they would have something more to do over the summer than stay at Abraxus’s house after all. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, June 1943

For once in his life Tom was actually relaxing. He had chosen to spend the last full day of term out by the lake truly enjoying the prospect of a summer full of the luxuries at the Malfoy family manor. For the moment he was choosing not to think of the two weeks he and Ivy would be forced to spend at the orphanage first. 

No, for once Tom Riddle’s mind was blissfully clear or schemes, plans or desires of power and magic. It was incredibly boring. Ever since Tom had created his first Horcrux and succeeded, he had felt somewhat at a loss. He knew he wanted to create more, yes, that was certain. But he didn’t know where to do it, or who he could use to complete them. It was too risky to attempt another Horcrux creation within the walls of Hogwarts as well as use the Basilisk. The massive creature had been slumbering for several months now and Tom was tempted to leave him there for eternity. Or at least until he deemed it appropriate to raise him once again. 

Tom turned over in the shade of one of the larger trees along the lake’s edge. Not doing anything had never satisfied Tom before, what he needed was a new plan, a new goal. But where would he start?

The sound of running feet reached Tom’s ears and he tried to ignore them. He assumed it to belong to some stupid first year as enthralled by the prospect of a summer with nothing to do as Tom hated the very idea of it. But instead of them running past him, he heard the feet come to a stop next to his head and decided to open his eyes he was met with a beautiful sight. 

Two violet eyes stared down at him framed by rich brown hair. 

Tom smiled at Ivy and began to sit up, only to lose his balance when the girl thrust something into his hands. 

“Ivy, what…?” He started, annoyed by her action. 

“You…need…to read…this. Now.” Ivy panted, wiping the sheen of sweat from her brow as she sat down heavily next to Tom. 

“Read what?” He asked, taken aback by her disheveled appearance. 

Ivy pointed her finger at a tiny bit of text and his gaze followed her action. He frowned at first, but in less than five seconds his dark brows were almost disappearing into his hairline, his mouth hanging open in complete shock. 

“…Are you serious? After all this time they’ve been in an outdated newspaper?” Tom whispered to himself. 

Ivy, realizing that the question was rhetorical, didn’t respond as she panted to get her breath back. 

Tom finished the article and grinned widely, one of his true grins no less. Oh now he hated not having a goal, and how he loved Ivy more in that moment than he could ever remember loving anyone. How he would use this information to—both—of their advantages. 

He turned to Ivy, taking in her appearance once more. She must have come to him immediately upon finding this information. So loyal, so trusted. It didn’t matter if she had been cross with him all those months ago, it didn’t matter even if they had fought. Ivy would always be on Tom’s side and he knew it with every moment more she spent by his side. 

Tom leaned forward and placed his cool lips to her flushed ones. He kissed her with more than just pleasure, he kissed her with triumph. 

He broke contact with her mouth just long enough to whisper, “Looks like we need to pay a visit to Little Hagleton over the summer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! As an apology for taking so long to update last time here is the next chapter. Thanks so everyone who commented last time and I hope you enjoy this installment!
> 
> As always I don't own Harry Potter and all excerpts from this chapter come from Chamber of Secrets.
> 
> This story is cross-posted on Fanfiction.net.


	14. Family Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm so excited for this chapter and I couldn't wait to write it, I finished it all today. This was the chapter that I first imagined and began the entire story. But, it's not over yet and it continues from my imagination into the next chapter. Please, as always, enjoy and let me know your thoughts through comments! Thanks so much for your support!
> 
> As always, I don't own Harry Potter and all excepts from this chapter are from Half-Blood Prince.

Chapter 14: Family Matters

Outside of London, England, July 1943

“I have something I want to give you” Tom’s voice cut through the steady rocking of the train and through Ivy’s thoughts. She had been engrossed in a spell book, something that Professor Yaxley had lent to her before the start of summer vacation. 

“A present?” Ivy asked, confused by the statement. 

Tom’s dark eyes regarded her violet ones with a mixture of amusement and excitement. “Sort of.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the diary she had given him the Christmas before. 

“You decided you didn’t like it?” She said, slightly hurt by his action. 

Tom laughed lightly which only served to make her feel worse.

“That’s not it at all.” He placated, “I made some…adjustments and wanted to return your original favor.”

“I don’t understand.” 

Tom grinned. “Just indulge me and write something in it.” He leaned closer to her ear before he whispered, “You do trust me, don’t you?” 

Ivy suppressed an involuntary shiver but chose not to answer. Instead she took the hardbound book and pulled out a Muggle-style ball-point pen. Normally Ivy would never be seen with such an obvious link to the world that she and Tom hated but since they were in a Muggle train she decided to draw as little attention to herself and her pale companion as possible. After all, if was one thing for her to be reading a non-descript book, but another to be writing with one of her eagle-feather quills. 

My name is Ivy Petros, she wrote somewhat messily, doing her best to fulfill Tom’s request and push her discomfort at her present being re-gifted down as much as possible. She waited a few seconds and then turned to look skeptically at Tom. She raised her eyebrows in a silent ‘So? What now?’ 

Tom continued to grin at her and gestured back to the page. Ivy glanced down and did a double-take. The ink from her words were already disappearing, as if the book was absorbing it, and in their place she watched as a single word appeared in Tom’s own looping scrawl. 

Ivy!

The next thing Ivy knew she was suddenly in a very different place than a nearly deserted passenger car on the Muggle train system. Blinking, she looked around noticing as she did so that she appeared to be in a dorm room at Hogwarts. The colors surrounding her were emerald green and molten silver, obviously Slytherin House colors. But Ivy had never been in the boys dorms of any House at their school, much less the one belonging to the person she was closest to in the world. 

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Said a deep voice. 

Ivy turned suddenly, not realizing she wasn’t alone, and her gaze happened upon none other than Tom Riddle himself. 

“Tom? What’s going on? I thought we were just on the train? Have I passed out or something?” Ivy was beginning to panic ever so slightly and Tom saw this and bridged the distance between them in three quick strides. 

“Calm down,” he said as he placed two strong hands on her arms, drawing her closer to him as he continued to speak. “And I have no idea where you actually are, but if my other self is with you I’m sure you will be just fine.” 

“Other self?” Ivy drew back and stared at the person in front of her. He certainly looked like her Tom. His hair and eyes were the same as always, but he did look a bit paler than usual and the look he was giving her was certainly different, almost hungrier, as if he hadn’t eaten in a long time and was just now seeing an entire buffet. 

“Oh, didn’t my other self explain our situation before I—he—asked you to write in the diary? Well, no matter, I expect I had good reasons for wanting myself to do it in this way.”   
Ivy didn’t know quite how to respond to that but allowed Tom to lead her over to one of the four-poster beds and sit down beside her. 

“Well, it won’t take too long for you to catch on, it never has before. Remember the diary you gave me for…I guess it would still be, last Christmas?” 

Ivy nodded still trying to puzzle out her strange circumstances. 

“Well, as you know I had been attempting to make a Horcrux for several months and needed only the proper sacrifice and corresponding item to attach my soul to.”   
Tom paused and studied her. 

Ivy imagined him chuckling inwardly as he waited for her to put the pieces together. Then, after about five seconds it clicked. 

“You attached a piece of your soul to the diary I gave you?” Ivy replied in disbelief. 

“Correct in one, as usual.” Tom nodded with approval. 

“So, right now, I’m talking to a piece of your soul while the rest of your soul is sitting beside me on a train to Little Hangleton?” 

Tom cocked his head at her. “I believe so, though, I don’t know why we—I—would be going to Little Hangleton. Tiny little place, isn’t it?” 

“Wait, you don’t know why we’re going?” 

Tom raised his eyebrows again. “No, thanks to the spell I’m a completely separate piece of my soul. I’m detached from my body therefore I have no idea what is happening as time moves forward. I only know what people choose to tell me in the journal.” 

“Well, what did Tom, I mean the ‘Other Tom’, tell you?” 

Journal Tom leaned back against the headboard and recounted several important details that had occurred since Myrtle Warren’s death, or since the time he was officially split from his main body. 

Ivy listened attentively and answered some of his questions related to the pieces he had missed, including the reason for her and the ‘rest-of-Tom’s’ journey out of the city. After a while he seemed satisfied and asked Ivy to tell his other half to write to him when their conversation was done. 

“After all, I really can’t help further our collective goals if I don’t know what is going on.” He said dismissively. 

“What do you do when we aren’t writing to you?” Ivy asked curiously. 

Journal Tom shrugged. “Read mostly. I can explore everything I ever experienced before my part of my soul was split. But I can also experience more when you or my other self visits me.” He grinned at her. “So make sure to write to me often.” Though he was grinning it was clear that it wasn’t a request. 

Ivy smiled. “Of course, I won’t leave you alone.” 

Journal Tom smiled at her and leaned forward from his reclining position as he placed his lips on hers. Ivy reciprocated the kiss gladly, first gently and with more passion as the two continued. She had a vague thought that the two of them had never really been ‘alone’ together besides when they were in the Chamber of Secrets. Suddenly she was very excited and only worried momentarily of two things: the first was that if this was indeed only happening in her head while the second one was if she should tell ‘Other Tom’ about this particular experience. 

Then, when Journal Tom began kissing down her neck she decided it really didn’t matter either way she could figure it. She allowed him to gently push her down onto the bed. She reached up to clasp her hands around his neck, her tongue melding with his in the most amazing way. She moaned lightly in the back of her throat and she could feel Journal Tom shiver in anticipation. He moved one of his hands down to her waist and up across the smooth skin of her stomach. The sensation caused her entire body to tingle. 

Ivy could feel Tom shift above her and he carefully placed one knee in-between her legs, sliding both hands underneath her shirt. He continued moving his hands upwards and Ivy allowed him to guide the shirt over her head. Suddenly, the cold air hit her newly bared skin and she shivered from more than just pleasure. She blinked up at Tom’s body, towering over her own and she was suddenly very self-conscious. This was the furthest they had ever gone before and while she wanted to please him and be pleased it was all a bit too much, especially since this Tom was only a part of the real thing. 

Journal Tom seemed to sense her change in feeling because he asked, “What’s wrong?” 

“Well…this is, you know, new…” Ivy began lamely, moving her arms to cover her mostly bare chest. 

“You mean we’ve never done this before?” Journal Tom asked blankly. 

Ivy nodded. 

Journal Tom sat back on his legs before replying, “I’m sorry Ivy, I didn’t know. I assumed—”

“Assumed what?” She asked, genuinely confused. 

“Well, only that I’ve been wanting to do this for so long, I thought that we—”

“Wait, you’ve been wanting what for so long?” Ivy was moving slightly back from Journal Tom and she was reaching for her shirt while still maintaining steady eye contact. 

“You. I’ve been wanting you for so long. To be with you, to make you mine as much as possible.” Tom muttered out, averting his eyes from her piercing gaze. 

“You have?” Ivy asked, astounded because she thought that this was perhaps the first time she had ever seen Tom embarrassed. 

“Of course. I’ve never wanted anyone else. Just like what you told me last summer at the orphanage. At least, I was thinking that to still be the case for you?” He asked, suddenly looking very uncomfortable indeed. 

Ivy smiled and grabbed Tom by his green and silver tie. “Of course it is.” And drew her mouth once more to his. 

Little Hagleton, England, July 1943

By the time Ivy was released from the journal the pair had nearly arrived at their destination. While she had been gone visiting Tom’s ‘Other Self’ he had picked up her new spell book and had been muttering the incantations under his breath. Ivy, appearing to be asleep, was leaning against his shoulder, the journal open on her lap. 

During those quiet hours Tom had alternated between silently observing the woman sitting beside him and trying to distract himself with the damn book. But neither activity would stem the two feelings brewing inside of him. The first was a wild feeling of pleasure regarding the quickly approaching next steps to his goal while the second was an almost equally strong feeling of lust for the woman seated beside him. 

Tom had known for some time that he desired Ivy, that he wanted to make her his in every way imaginable. Not that she wasn’t already, of course. He also knew that he needed to be careful considering Ivy’s past. He had slipped up before during the previous summer, moving too quickly, but luckily he hadn’t managed to rattle her. In fact, he suspected that she had rather liked it. But Tom knew that with all things there were limits and he had no desire to push Ivy’s, at least when it came to the physical aspect of their relationship. 

No, Tom would need to be more careful with her, no matter how much he wanted to force her awake in that moment and do what he could to mark her as his forever. 

But he couldn’t do that, at least not yet. He had to wait, just as his plan for meeting his first-known blood-relatives would have to wait. 

So that’s what Tom Riddle did, and no-one could ever say that the Heir of Slytherin couldn’t be patient. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present Day

Harry James Potter was rather shocked by all that he had witnessed by the hands of Albus Dumbledore during his Sixth Year at Hogwarts. They two of them had spent months parading around various memories, all of them surrounding one very important person: Lord Voldemort. 

It had been several days since Harry had delivered Slughorn’s unaltered memory to the Headmaster and his head was still spinning with all the implications their dialogue had unearthed. It would seem that in addition to the diary-turned-Horcrux that Harry had destroyed in his second year, Voldemort had created six more using powerful magical objects. Dumbledore suspected that the Dark wizard had used objects from the Hogwarts founders along with his trusted snake Nagini and the ring that had belonged to his mother’s family. And to top it all off, it seemed that he, Harry, could only kill Voldemort when all the objects were destroyed, allowing his enemy to become mortal once more. 

Trying in vain to focus on his Charms essay, Harry’s thoughts wandered back to one of the more violent memories he had encountered. The one where Tom had framed his uncle for killing his father and paternal grandparents. 

Little Hagleton, England, July 1943

It took Harry several seconds to recognize the place, by which time Dumbledore had landed right beside him. The Gaunts’ house was now more indescribably filthy than anywhere Harry had ever seen. The ceiling was thick with cobwebs, the floor coated in grime; moldy and rotting food lay upon the table amidst a mass of crusted pots. The only light came from a single guttering candle placed at the feet of a man with hair and beard so overgrown Harry could see neither eyes nor mouth. He was slumped in an armchair by the fire and Harry wondered for a moment whether he was dead. But then there came a loud knock on the door and the man jerked awake, raising a wand in his right hand and a short knife in his left. 

The door creaked open. There on the threshold, holding an old fashioned lamp, stood a boy Harry recognized at once; tall, pale, dark-haired, and handsome—the teenage Lord Voldemort. 

Voldemort’s eyes moved slowly around the hovel and then found the man in the armchair. For a few seconds they looked at each other, then the man staggered upright, the many empty bottles at his feet clattering and tinkling across the floor. 

“YOU!” he bellowed. “YOU!” 

And he hurtled drunkenly at Riddle, wand and knife held aloft. 

“Stop.”

Riddle spoke in Parseltongue. The man skidded into the table, sending moldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Riddle. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. The man broke it. 

“You speak it?” 

“Yes, I speak it.” Said Riddle. He moved forward into the room allowing the door to swing shut behind him. He had come alone and Harry had been half-expecting Ivy to accompany him, but was disappointed. Harry could not help feeling a resentful admiration for Voldemort’s complete lack of fear. His face merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment. 

“Where is Marvolo?” he asked. 

“Dead,” said the other. “Died years ago, didn’t he?” 

Riddle frowned. 

“Who are you, then?”

“I’m Morfin, ain’t I?” 

“Marvolo’s son?” 

“Course I am, then…”

Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better to see Riddle, and Harry saw that he wore Marvolo’s black-stoned ring on his right hand. 

“I thought you was that Muggle,” whispered Morfin. “You look mighty like that Muggle.”

“What Muggle?” said Riddle sharply. 

“That Muggle that my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle that lives in the big house over the way,” said Morfin, and he spat unexpectedly upon the floor between them. “You look right like him. Riddle. But he’s older now, in ’e? He’s older than you, now I think on it…”

Morfin looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, still clutching the edge of the table for support. “He come back, see” he added stupidly. 

Voldemort was gazing at Morfin as though appraising his possibilities. Now he moved a little closer and said, “Riddle came back?”

“Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!” said Morfin, spitting on the floor again. “Robbed us, mind, before she ran off! Where’s the locket, eh, where’s Slytherin’s locket?”

Voldemort did not answer. Morfin was working himself into a rage again; he brandished his knife and shouted, “Dishonored us, she did, that little slut! And who’re you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It’s over, innit…It’s over…”

He looked away, staggering slightly, and Voldemort moved forward. As he did so an unnatural darkness fell, extinguishing Voldemort’s lamp and Morfin’s candle, extinguishing everything…

©©©

Tom Riddle leaned heavily against the gate of his uncle’s disgusting hovel. He was out of breath and sweating in the oppressive heat of the July night. He had decided to come alone, much to Ivy’s displeasure, and as much as Tom hated to admit it to himself, he had wished that he had agreed for her to join him. It wouldn’t have been, unpleasant, for some company in that moment. 

What he had to just undergo wasn’t at all what he expected. When he first had read the article that Ivy had found he had been under the impression that his relatives were worthy of the name of Slytherin. But what he found was a rank and filthy man who Tom couldn’t believe had ever been mistaken for a wizard. He was disappointed and dissatisfied. 

However, Tom had gained with the unfortunate encounter more…valuable information. It seemed that his filthy Muggle father was close, very close indeed and it seemed that Tom would have someone to exercise his rage upon after all. 

He took a deep breath and continued down a side road that he had ignored on his way to his uncle’s house. The night was relatively silent and with the help of his lantern he was able to see through the gloom of the summer night. Before he knew it he had arrived at his next destination, Morfin’s wand grasped tightly between his long, pale fingers. 

His father’s house was much more pleasing to the eye than his mother’s childhood home. The house—well, it was more of a manor, really—rose three stories above the manicured lawn, its white wood siding pale by the light of the moon. The front gate was smartly latched but Tom had no trouble, he merely flicked his stolen wand and walked on through. Tom walked silently up the gravel walkway, regarding the almost cheery glow of candlelight with marked distaste. 

He approached the front door, silently waving the wand which felt clunky in his delicate grip. The door opened noiselessly and Tom set foot for the first time in the Riddle House. It appeared that he had picked a good night to visit. The house was nearly deserted and he only heard the faint tinkle of china and glass coming from down the hallway. The noises of the meal were punctuated by ringing laughter that set Tom’s nerves on fire. 

How dare my filthy Muggle father carry on with his life like this? How dare he lead a ‘normal’ life after what he did to me and to my mother?

It was with his hackles raised like a feral wolf that Tom first met his paternal grandparents, and more importantly, his father. It could have been almost comical, if he were there under different circumstances. Almost like one of those situations on radio shows that the brats at the orphanage were always chattering about. Estranged son comes to meet his equally estranged father, never knowing he existed. Family welcomes home its newest member with open arms. 

But there was nothing that Tom could find worth laughing about in this scenario. 

It began immediately; he took care of his grandmother first. She was dead before she could finish her next bite of her Beef Bourguignon. Next, his grandfather slumped forward into his meal with a flash of green light. Tom left his father for last. 

The man, the man who looked so much like him, was quivering before Tom, terror painted in every etching of his face. The faint stench of newly spilled urine wafting from across the formally set table. The man was shocked, his dark eyes flickering to and from the bodies of his disgusting parents. 

“W-who are you? What do you want? Do you want money? I’ll give you whatever you want!” 

Tom regarded the man before him with cold, ivy fury, his uncle’s wand raised before him with dark grace. 

“Oh, father, I never wanted anything from you, especially your tainted Muggle money. But, as useless to me as you were in life, you will be far more useful to me in death. You thought me weak, worthy of nothing but abandonment. But, from your weak mistake I will become stronger than you ever could have imagined with your tiny, Muggle mind.”

Tom fished in his pocket for just a moment before he drew out the black stone ring that had previously inhabited Morfin’s unwashed finger. He put it on now, taking a few precious seconds to admire the be-spelled object that would, from that moment on, house his second Horcrux. 

Tom Riddle Senior’s eyes had only a second to widen before—

“Avada Kedavra!” 

©©©

Ivy couldn’t sleep. Her heart was torn between being frustrated that Tom had insisted that she remain at the inn where they had scraped enough money to rent a modest room, while at the same time being almost out of her mind with worry. She had tried to fall asleep after finishing the book that she had started on the train, but her thoughts kept running around in her head. Finally she gave it up for a bad job and took to pacing the floor. When even that didn’t work, she decided to sit by the window, allowing the summertime breeze to cool both her thoughts and her flushed skin. 

She must have nodded off because the next thing she knew she was jerking awake by the sound of the door opening and then snapping abruptly shut. Blinking around Ivy had just enough time to identify the Tom’s tall figure stumble away from the door before he collapsed on the area rug. 

“Tom! Are you okay?” She said as she rushed to his side. “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong?” She crouched down next to him, picking at his limbs and looking for any sign of damage, magical or otherwise. 

She halted her inspection when she heard his voice escape him in a sort of strangled chuckle. 

“Wrong? What could possibly be wrong? No, everything…for once, everything is so right.” He said, turning his face up to look at her and continued. “Finally, finally I have everything I need, and almost everything I want.” 

Ivy barely had any time to register his strange dialogue before Tom placed both hands on either side of her head and pulled Ivy’s lips to his own. His kisses, usually so soft and sensual, were instead very hot and needy. Tom shifted his grasp from Ivy’s face to clutch her almost painfully around the waist. His grip was bruising, but Ivy wasn’t put off. She shifted with him, allowing him to push her towards the bed. They had managed to pass themselves off as a young married couple and succeeded in getting a room to themselves, something that Ivy had been looking forward to. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure it was their best plan. 

Suddenly Tom had hooked his hands underneath Ivy’s nightgown and lifted it fully over her head leaving her almost totally disrobed. She sat there in front of him with only her undergarments as protection from his ravenous gaze. Ivy regarded him and was suddenly feeling more than naked underneath his animal gaze. It was if he was looking through her, like he could see every fiber of every muscle, every curve of every bone. 

His dark gaze ripped through her, taking in her almost naked form. After several minutes he looked up into her eyes and said the most heartbreaking thing she had ever heard him say.

“Ivy…please. Ivy.”


	15. Blood and Salt Water

Chapter 15: Blood and Salt Water 

Little Hagleton, England, July 1943

Tom couldn’t even begin to name all the sensations running through his body. Like the first time he had created a Horcrux he felt nauseated. His stomach writhed; it twisted and churned like a nest of upset snakes. But there was more. He felt different…more powerful, more…hungry. Yes, there was an insatiable hunger coursing through his body, one that he felt only power and magic could satiate. Thankfully the nausea didn’t linger past getting back to the inn. Instead the feeling of power of freedom like he was flying, like he could do anything, drowned out all other sensations. 

He had refused to dwell on the past several hours of his choices. He refused to think about how he had just killed three of his last remaining relatives. How he had used his own dirty Muggle father’s life force to seal a portion of his soul to a ring he had stolen from his intoxicated uncle, and then framed said uncle using the very wand Tom had stolen from his limp fingers. No, it wouldn’t do for Tom to think of any of those things just then. 

So instead his thoughts turned to the one thing that he knew wouldn’t remind him of his actions and wouldn’t make him consider the dark path he was heading down with gathering speed. That night Tom would only think of Ivy and how she could make him fly. 

When he first entered their shared room he was entranced by the sight of her in her white nightdress dozing by the window frame, the strands of her billowy brown hair swaying slightly in the summer breeze. He lingered for just a moment, admiring both the sight and how her presence seemed to speed up the very blood that circulated his body. Just looking at her made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He shut the door behind him, the sound, while faint, served to awaken the beautiful women whom he valued beyond all else. He had stumbled, almost collapsing from the combined emotional and physical endeavors of the night, and she had come to him immediately, her purple eyes wide with concern. He had consoled her, not truly even aware of what he was saying, his eyes and mind more focused on what he was seeing before him. 

What he found, while looking at her, was that he couldn’t deny himself any further. In that moment he desired her strength, he desired her stability, her intelligence…every single thing about it. He wanted her, he needed to, more than anything in that moment, ensure that she would be his, the way no-one else had ever done before. Not even her disgusting pig of an uncle. 

So he kissed her. 

He did so with bruising intensity, their lips locking as he guided her towards their bed. In a single swift motion he removed her nightdress, pausing only long enough to truly take in the sight of Ivy, almost bared to his intense gaze. 

She was beautiful, almost achingly so. The sight of her drowned out all the other pain he was experiencing. But he could see her discomfort as he gazed at her. 

He forced himself to stop then, taking in her instant apprehension and anxiety. Her body trembled, her eyes wide like a deer that he would hunt then devour. Tom made another choice in that moment. He, used to simply taking what he wanted, what was owed to him, looked his greatest possession in the eye and very nearly begged her. He needed this, he had been craving it for so long, And he had been careful, yes, so careful…but he wouldn’t wait any longer. 

Just as Ivy was trembling from nerves, Tom was trembling with lust, overwhelming, excruciating lust. He had to have her, and he had to have her then and there or he thought, despite the Horcruxes, that he might seriously die. 

“Yes.” 

Tom’s mouth hung open momentarily in shock. 

“Are you sure?” He asked again, almost kicking himself for looking a gift horse in the mouth. 

Ivy only nodded, and Tom look that nod all the way to Gringotts. 

He consumed her again, placing both hands firmly on her shoulders, his long, pale fingers gripping her gently by firmly. He looked her in the eyes once more, shooting her a quick grin before he placed his lips upon hers. He lost himself in the sensations, her soft skin, her pink lips, even the way her hair smelled. She was like a particularly enticing piece of cake, all smooth icing and fluffy center. 

And he was so hungry. 

Tom did his best to be slow, to be gentle, it was hard, damn it was so hard. But soon Ivy was giving him as much as he was giving her. She placed her small hands on his chest, his shirt and pants still in place. Her deft fingers, usually so clever, trembled slightly as she undid the buttons and untucked his shirt from his smartly ironed Muggle pants. 

Tom moved his grip from her shoulders to allow the garment to be removed. His skin, still slightly more pale than usual but oddly hot to the touch, tingled all the more pleasantly when it came into contact with the warm summer air. 

His shirt hit the floor with a muffled thump. He had already removed both of his shoes and with the help of Ivy’s wonderful fingers his pants soon followed, all items making merry with Ivy’s nightdress that Tom had removed earlier. 

He never even had the thought that this was the first time that anyone had seen him mostly unclothed besides the Matrons at the orphanage. It never crossed his mind to be self-conscious or uncomfortable. After all, who wouldn’t want to be in Ivy’s position? But, he also reasoned, who wouldn’t want to be in his position? Ivy was beautiful, smart, and best of all she was his. Tom couldn’t imagine anyone better than her. 

He lunged forward as soon as he could and positioned himself overtop of Ivy. They kissed again and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her so that their entire bodies were pressing up against one another. He continued kissing her, allowing their tongues to flick back and forth, the action causing Ivy to moan gloriously into his mouth. 

Tom couldn’t hide a satisfied smirk. 

He allowed them to break the kiss, his mouth pressing possessive kisses down the entirety of Ivy’s neck gradually making his way down to her collar bone. He grasped the straps of her brassiere and pulled them down towards her elbows. Lifting her forward he made short work of the clasp in the back, the contraption coming apart easily under his touch. And he couldn’t help in that moment but think that the same would soon be true for Ivy herself. 

Ivy pulled the undergarment from her body, pausing only for a moment as she reached down and removed her underwear. She cast her eyes down shyly, a nervous blush lighting her entire face. Tom reached down and lifted her chin so that she would have no choice to meet his hungry gaze. 

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. There’s nothing you should be embarrassed about.” His voice was as firm as his grip and he continued to hold onto her until she shot him a small smile in response to his declaration. 

His gaze left her face then and traveled down to explore the new territory that was in front of him. He reached down with one hand while leaning his mouth once more to Ivy’s finally satisfied that there would be no more protests. 

They joined together once more, Tom doing his best to take his time and explore each new part of the girl in front of him. He had never seen Ivy fully naked before and it fascinated him to no end. She was like a book that kept enticing him with each new chapter. He found that if he touched her over here she gasped, while over there she breathed shallowly in response. 

But, on his part, he was finding out similar things about himself. For example he noted with distracted interest that if Ivy dug her hands into his scalp it caused shivers to drive down the length of his spine. He found that if she kissed him just below his ear his stomach flip-flopped with distinct pleasure. 

But, far more than anything else, he found that the best thing was when the two of them were joined. He positioned himself as best he could given he had no experience in the area, before slowing entering her. It was difficult at first because he could tell he was hurting her. She was tense, so tense and he went back and forth a few times before finally feeling himself filling her in his entirety. 

He stopped moving then which took all the willpower that he processed. He was breathing hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He reached down and grasped Ivy’s legs before leaning down to kiss her once more. He locked eyes with hers as they began to move, her violet irises striking in the dark of the room. Slowly as he continued his rhythm he felt her relax as she got through the discomfort. 

She began breathing shallowly herself and wrapped her arms around Tom’s neck, drawing his chest closer to hers. Their lips met and suddenly Tom was at his limit, he gripped her legs hard and felt himself release into her, groaning as he did so. He released her lips and her legs and buried his head into her neck, holding her to himself as he rode out the conclusion of his high. 

Slowly, his breathing and heart beat returned to normal. He released Ivy and rolled to the side, allowing her room to recover herself. He gazed at her, carefully watching for any sign of panic or fear that had been present at the beginning of their encounter. He found none and was instead met by her warm smile. 

“Oh, that wasn’t bad at all.” She said airily. 

Tom frowned at her. “Why on earth would it be bad?” 

Ivy’s face flushed in the pale of the room. “It was something that Susan said.” She mumbled. “You know that she and Abraxus—” 

Tom cut her off, “Are you seriously comparing me to Abraxus?” His mood turning from euphoria to disgust. 

“No, no! But she said that usually girls don’t like it.” 

“…did you like it?” He asked her, suddenly very interested in her answer. 

Ivy blinked at him and her mouth slowly curled into a sly smile. “Best I’ve ever had.” 

“Oh? Well, it that’s the case I think we should try to top that.” He grinned at her and rolled over on top of her once again. 

And top it they did. 

 

Little Hagleton, England, July 1943

The morning light hit Ivy all at once. Distraught, she rolled over as she tried to hide her eyes from the offensive glare, but was momentarily surprised when she burrowed into something large and warm instead. She opened her eyes a crack and saw Tom’s dark hair tousled from sleep right by her nose. He was still deeply asleep despite the lateness of the hour, his lean form rising and falling gently with each breath. 

Ivy rolled onto her back. She was convinced as the memories of the night before began flooding through her mind that she wouldn’t be able to fall back into her previous comatose state. Checking once more that Tom Riddle was truly still asleep, Ivy carefully rose from the bed and headed to the bathroom. She closed the door which she was thankful possessed no squeaky hinges, and sat down heavily on the closed toilet lid. 

She leaned back against the ceramic tank, again thankful that they had managed to get rooms at such a modern-style inn complete with indoor plumbing. Gathering up her courage she spared herself a look in the mirror. She held back a mixture of grimace and laugh at her appearance. Her usually unblemished skin was blotching from sleep but upon further inspection she discovered no less than three love bites on her neck. Thankfully they didn’t hurt and she thought that she might be able to cover them up with a bit of Muggle make-up or a well-placed vanishing spell if she could find a way to get around the Trace. She turned around on the seat to inspect herself further but was greeted by a bit of discomfort down below. 

Ivy wasn’t terribly surprised by that, especially since last night was her official first time (she had never considered anything of what her uncle had done to her in such a sense), but it was somewhat inconvenient. She smiled slightly, remembering the extent of the events that unfolded the night before…and then again at least two more times. 

It hadn’t been as unpleasant as she had feared; in fact she found she had rather liked the experience. She had been very nervous at first, especially at how abruptly it had happened and after Tom had come rushing in like that after doing god-knows-what. He had looked an absolute fright, all pale skin and wide dark eyes. She was sure that he had succeeded in creating another Horcrux but hadn’t pressed the matter. Especially when she thought of whom he had used as a sacrifice to power the spell. 

Instead she had allowed him to steer her back towards the bed and well…other things. Her lips curled up in a mischievous smirk. She would definitely have to write to Journal Tom about that particular event. 

A soft knock drowned out the rest of that train of thought. 

“Ivy, are you alright?” 

“Tom, yes I’m just using the loo. Be out in a minute.” Ivy quickly washed her hands and flushed the toilet for good measure, even though she hadn’t used it, and exited the bathroom. 

“What took you so long?” Tom’s voice called to her from the bed, his long form spread out leisurely across the sheets. 

“I was just thinking.” Ivy replied absently, her eyes distracted by the fact that the man in front of her was very much naked. 

Tom met her gaze and arced one of his dark eyebrows playfully. Ivy had seen him before without a shirt off and many times as children she had seen him in only his underclothes. But today, this morning, was the first time that she was able to take in his full form. His face was as pale as the rest of his body though now his cheeks held the slight shadow of stubble. He was well toned and though he was still a bit on the lanky side Ivy could see that he was beginning to fill in around his chest and shoulders, the last of the boy she had grown up with was fading into the handsome young man before her. It would have saddened her if she had been in the least bit sentimental, instead her fingers tingled with the memory of how they felt playing across the smooth panels of his skin the night before, their first big step into the world of adulthood.

“Thinking about what?” He asked his usually smooth voice suddenly husky as though he could sense just where her thoughts had been going. And maybe he had for she was making no effort to hide it. 

Ivy smiled. “You.” 

“Come here.” Tom’s low voice stated, his lips curling into another hungry smile that put the one he wore the night before to shame. 

Ivy knew it wasn’t a request but even so she went willingly into the arms of a serpent. 

Malfoy Manor outside London, England, August 1943

Tom was rather excited about getting mail, which, in itself, was rather something of an oddity. In his life he had only ever received his Hogwarts’s school letters by owl post, excluding his acceptance letter of course, which had been hand-delivered by Albus Dumbledore. Tom scowled unconsciously, stopping his pacing around the bedroom, the man’s name causing the usual spike in Tom’s temper just thinking about it. 

He took a deep breath and continued his steps around one of the Malfoy Manor’s many guest bedrooms. Truly, he didn’t know why he allowed the man to bother him so much after all none of his incessant distrust or too-sharp perceptual skills would distract him when he was about to get his letter. This year’s letter would be special for along with his usual parcel containing his list of required school books for the term he would also be receiving his O.W.L.’s score and he wouldn’t take anything less than Outstanding in every subject. 

He stopped his pacing once more and took to leaning against the bedpost. Thankfully Tom and Ivy had been able to avoid returning to the orphanage for the rest of the summer. Instead they were the gracious guests of Abraxus, the blonde always the loyal pawn had offered them a place to stay almost as soon as the owl that had delivered Tom’s request had arrived in his aristocratic fingers. 

Tom and Ivy’s sixth year at Hogwarts was due to begin in two weeks’ time which would allow plenty of time to pick up their supplies and prepare everything before their presence would be required at King’s Cross station. 

A sharp rap caught Tom’s attention and he practically bounded for the window to let in two owls, both the familiar brown color that he had come to associate with the school owls. He opened the window and allowed both the birds to hop onto the bed and hold out their legs. Tom removed both the letters from both the birds before shooing them impatiently out of the window. 

He immediately ripped into the letter containing his name and frantically skimmed through all the documents it contained until his eyes found what they sought. He read it through once, then again once more to be sure. Yes, of course Tom Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin would have achieved an ‘Outstanding’ in every single subject. 

Tom sat down heavily on the bed, his mind reeling with pleasure at his results. No matter what the true status of his parentage was, he was sure that he was destined to be the most powerful wizard in the world. Greater even, than Albus Dumbledore. 

He sat there for a few more minutes, admiring the fruits of his labor. Eventually, however, his mind had to jump to another subject and the one it chose was his current project. He turned thoughtfully towards the desk that had been added to the room upon his request. On it sat several large books including Hogwarts, A History. The book had been published earlier in the year and Abraxus had seen to it that Tom had gotten a copy. A woman named Bathilda Bagshot was the author and though there were many things in the book that weren’t news to Tom, there were a few chapters of which he had found a particular interest. 

He turned to such a chapter now, one of several that had been written about the Hogwarts founders. Tom furrowed his brows in concentration once more coming back to a paragraph that he had read far more times than the letter he had received mere moments before. The paragraph discussed different items processed by the Hogwarts Founders. It provided known examples such as the sword of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw’s diadem, but it made no concrete mention of items belonging to Hufflepuff or Slytherin. 

His mind suddenly replayed a segment of the conversation that he had endured the previous month with his wretch of an uncle. 

“Robbed us, mind, before she ran off! Where’s the locket, eh, where’s Slytherin’s locket?”

Even in Parseltongue Tom knew he hadn’t misunderstood. His mother, his non-Muggle mother, had once possessed something that had belonged to Salazar Slytherin. Tom clenched his fist with a sudden violent anger. She had possessed something that by all rights should be his now, not in some dusty shop or in some half-blooded filth’s possession! He ground his teeth and hissed low in his throat. Tom was the only one in the world that should possess something like that and he would do everything in his power to ensure that he would do so. 

Taking several deep breaths he willed his temper back to a manageable level. He noted with detachment that he seemed to be more short-tempered than usual and that ever since he had made his second Horcrux that his skin hadn’t retained its previous color, even after spending several days in the summer sun. He brushed those thoughts aside; it didn’t matter, those side-effects, if he could even call them that were a small price to pay for immortality. 

Tom grinned madly at the thought. 

He pulled the chair out from under the desk with his long fingers and sat prepared to continue his research into the items belonging to the Hogwarts founders. After all, he had decided that he did in fact need more Horcruxes, hadn’t he? He tapped the finger holding the one heirloom that he did process from his mother’s side of the family. He regarded it for a moment, contemplating its fate. He slowly slid it off of his finger and concentrated his will on the object. 

“It’s about time you called.” Said a bored voice that matched his own in tone and pitch exactly. 

Tom smiled and leaned back into his chair. “I didn’t have anything of importance to discuss with you.” 

Ring-Tom raised his eyebrows, “Somehow I doubt that.” 

Tom shrugged. “Believe what you want, but you know me better than…well…me." 

Ring-Tom shrugged as well. “True. What was it you wanted to discuss?” 

Tom tented his fingers “I was thinking, now that I have two Horcruxes, what I should do with them.” He mused. 

Ring-Tom gave Tom a level stare and then began pacing around the room just as Tom himself had done earlier. “Well, the journal is safe with Ivy.” Ring-Tom said rhetorically. 

Tom nodded and allowed the other to continue. 

“And you could keep my Horcrux with you but that does leave open the possibility that both could be discovered while we are at Hogwarts.”

“Precisely the issue.” Tom nodded with approval. It was so nice to have an intelligent conversation partner. Apart from Ivy, he had found almost no-one else that he could converse with at this level. “If they were found out and either confiscated or destroyed I am left as vulnerable was I was before I created them.” 

Ring-Tom nodded in agreement, but continued pacing. Suddenly he stopped. 

“What?” Asked Tom with mild surprise. 

“Well, I think I have a solution, but seeing as you return to the castle in two weeks’ time, we would have to make the arrangements immediately, and find a suitable location.”  
Tom caught on to the other’s train of thought immediately. 

“Of course, we need to hide the ring. Ivy can handle the diary, no-one would suspect anything from her having it, but you…we need to hide you.” 

Ring-Tom nodded. “Yes, wards needs to be set into place…we need to borrow someone’s wand to conduct the spells while we still have the Trace.” 

“Yes, yes, all that can be arranged…and I think I know just the place to put you.”

“Oh?” 

“Well, we always did like the beach.” 

By the Sea, Outside London, England August 1943

Ivy hadn’t been sure of the merits of the plan when Tom first mentioned it. She knew the logic behind hiding one of the Horcruxes, sure, but she had written in the diary almost every day and the thought of a piece of Tom’s soul hidden and alone saddened her more than she expected. 

She had become very partial to Journal-Tom and he was so like the actual Tom in so many ways, but in some ways he was a bit different. Ivy hadn’t been able to put her finger on it but he seemed brighter, somehow, almost more gentle than the real thing. But Ivy shook her head. They had to be the same since they were each the same person, she was being stupid. 

“Ivy, what are you doing? We don’t have much time left before the sun goes down.” 

Ivy blinked rapidly and tore her gaze from the view of the ocean before her. She and Tom had arrived in the countryside earlier in the day by way of flu powder. Abraxus had been kind enough to have his father set up easy transportation to and from the seaside getaway that she and Tom had visited as children. In fact, the very cave in which Tom had chosen to hide his second Horcrux was none other than the cave where Ivy had first shown him her magic. It was a special place for both of them and Ivy couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Tom had thought of this location to hide a bit of his soul. 

She stepped hurriedly down the side of the cliff using the worn goat path that led down to the opening in the side of the rock face. She was sweating a bit by the time she caught up with her long-legged companion and a bit anxious since she didn’t remember the walkway being so narrow when she was a child. They continued on together, Ivy’s one hand fisted firmly in the folds of Tom’s shirt. He spared her a soft glance when he felt her hand on him, but continued forward with quick determination and non-existent fear. 

“Finally, here we are.” Tom murmured to no-one in particular. 

The two magical travelers stepped into the cave and almost immediately Ivy felt the temperature drop which was a relief after the hot climb down the rocks in the August sun. Even in England someone could work up a sweat in the middle of summer. The two of them looked around the cave, observing how far back into the bedrock it went as well as observing and making note for any signs of previous and older magic. 

After their cursory checkers were completed, Ivy decided she would get into position.

“Are you sure about this?” Ivy asked as she placed both hands on one of the slightly damp walls. 

Tom came up behind her and placed one hand next to hers. 

“Absolutely.” 

“Do it.” Ivy said firmly. 

Tom only nodded and took out a silver knife from the pocket of his trousers. He raised it above his head and plunged it directly into Ivy’s shoulder, slicing down in a sweeping motion and causing a laceration to erupt from her otherwise pristine skin. 

Blood welled down her arm and began dripping onto the cold stone floor of the cave. Ivy had to bite her bottom lip to muffle the scream. Her arm was agony, it was on fire. But suddenly she felt cold, much colder than the cave and her body began to tingle from shock. Her legs buckled but Tom caught her, holding her to him even as his hand rose again and made a similar gash on his own arm. The two of them collapsed to the floor, both trembling and gasping through their shared pain. 

“T-he-mmmm---spell!” Ivy gasped, tears of pain welling in her eyes as she cradled her slashed arm. 

Tom only nodded his face whiter than she had ever seen it before. He dropped the silver blade and pulled out a wand from his other pants pocket. He whispered an incantation that immediately stopped the bleeding on both his and Ivy’s wounds but not the pain—not just then, at least. 

Tom gave them each a few more minutes to get over their shock before he rose to his full height, forcing her to stand with him. She did, shakily, and took out a wand that she had stored in her own pocket. They took a few steps away from each other and faced the sizable puddle of blood that lay spreading on the floor of the cave. 

Slowly at first, then faster, they whispered incantation after incantation, each moving the wands in complex patterns and circles. As they continued their spell work the cave began to chance. It wasn’t entirely noticeable at first, but gradually the stone began to darken, the cave grew longer and the temperature grew colder. They continued on for hours in this way, until the sun had long since set and the full moon rose out over the sea, bathing the two blood-casters in a pale cruel light. 

Finally, satisfied that their work was done, they collapsed against the newly erected walls and fell asleep holding each other and willing the pain to cease. Ivy’s last conscious memory was of Tom cradling her against his chest and laughing softly into the night, accompanied by only the sound of crashing waves below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment and leave kudos, and as always I don't own Harry Potter!


	16. What's in a Name?

Chapter 16: What’s in a Name? 

Hogwarts, Scotland, October 1943

Ivy couldn’t take it anymore, it was just too good. Her fingers desperately grasped the emerald sheet as her fingers curled in on themselves with pleasure. She bit her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle a throaty moan but then remember hazily that no-one could possibly hear them anyway. 

She lifted her head, peeking between her legs and was met with the intense, dark gaze of Tom Riddle. 

Well, his Horcrux's intense gaze, that is. 

The effect of locking sights with Journal-Tom was enough to push Ivy over the edge and she rode out the waves of pleasure while arching her naked body upwards towards the canopied ceiling of the bed. 

“Oh, God!” 

She collapsed, breathing hard and glistening slightly from the exertion. 

“That good, hmm?” Journal-Tom smirked at her from down around her waist. He extracted himself from between her legs and climbed over top of her. “Well, let’s see how you like this…” He grasped one of Ivy’s legs firmly and pushed himself into her. He slid in easily when one considered their previous activity, but the sensation was still enough to make both of them gasp. 

Journal-Tom immediately captured her lips in a hungry kiss as they began to move together, slick skin sliding smoothly against slick skin. Ivy reached her arms upwards and deepened the kiss, moving her hips upwards as he thrust down into her. She could tell he was close and grabbed his hips, forcing him to steady his ragged rhythm but still pushing him deeper inside of her. 

Not long after that, Journal-Tom let out a similar exclamation to what Ivy had made roughly ten minutes before and he rested on her, boneless as he recovered from his release.   
“That good, huh?” Ivy teased and felt the other smirk into her neck. 

“It might have been the best I’ve ever had.” Journal-Tom harassed her back as he rolled off of her and stretched into the mattress. 

Ivy smiled back at him, both of them declining to comment on the obvious: that Ivy was likely to be the only person Journal-Tom ever saw much less slept with. 

“So, what’s been new on the ‘outside’?” He asked casually, though Ivy could hear the hint of wistfulness in his voice. He did that, tried to act casual though his curiosity smoldered behind his eyes. 

“Well, I told you last week that Halloween is coming up and Slughorn is having a party to celebrate the occasion? Well, it’s due to start in a few hours.” 

Journal-Tom nodded his assent and pulled Ivy closer to him as she continued to talk. 

“And will you be attending?” He asked casually. 

“I think the Professor would be positively hurt if I didn’t attend.” 

“And will…’I’…be escorting you?” 

“Well, you haven’t asked yet but I can only assume.” Ivy yawned in response and snuggled closer to his chest. 

“If I haven’t asked you yet I can only assume that making two Horcruxes has had the opposite effect and rotted my brain. And it starts in a few hours? I’m certainly cutting it close. But I wouldn’t worry. Besides, I can’t think of anyone else who would dare take you.” He seemed confident to the point of seeming smug as he said this. 

“What do you mean that no-one else would dare take me?” Ivy shifted slightly to look at her companion’s face. 

“Ivy, do you honestly think I would ever let someone else so much as touch you?” He asked, as one dark eyebrow rose sardonically. “I’ve told you before,” he moved to whisper the next part in her ear, “You belong to me, I won’t give you to anyone else.” 

Ivy shivered with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. But she said the next part staring Journal-Tom right in the eye. 

“And I told you before that I won’t let anyone else have me.”

Hogwarts, Scotland, Halloween 1943

Tom Riddle, the real Tom Riddle, was impatient. He had been informed by the old bag Slughorn that he absolutely must attend the Halloween party that the Professor was throwing. Apparently there were several Ministry members in attendance and Slughorn was angling to get Tom an internship in the Magical Law Enforcement Office for the coming summer (“Only way to become Minister for Magic, Tom m’boy”.). 

Tom ground his teeth in frustration. He knew logically that in order for him to achieve his over-arching goal of carving out a lasting place form himself and Ivy in the Wizarding world he would need people of certain…influence surrounding him. But the more he thought about it, the more useless that path seemed to become. 

He had spent many hours discussing the merits of such a path with the part of him that resided in the ring before he and Ivy locked it under enchantment under enchantment in the cave by the sea. Through those discussions he had come to the conclusion that there was a faster and more direct way of obtaining his overall goal. He wanted to maintain power, no question, and a certain amount of wealth to be sure, but more than anything he wanted to maintain independence. In fact the only one that Tom relied on and would continue to rely on was Ivy. But independence, that was his true goal. Tom wanted to be his own master and would do anything to achieve this goal. 

And the way Tom saw it if he began to climb the political ladder he would owe too many favors to too many weak players. Tom Riddle didn’t do weak…and at the moment politics was beginning to sound synonymous with that flaw. 

No, he would find a different way to power and independence. After all, he had already taken two significant steps down the road to immortality; where else should he go but dominance in every other aspect? 

“Are you ready?” Asked Tom’s favorite person, causing him to glance up and smirk at her with true pleasure. 

“Always ready for you.” He graciously handed her his arm and together he and Ivy made their way towards Slughorn’s Halloween fete. 

“What have you been doing all day?” He asked, distracted by looking at his watch. “I didn’t see you at lunch.” 

Though he was preoccupied, Tom couldn’t help but notice the way Ivy’s face turned a delightful shade of pink. He was always that way with her. No matter where she was in a room he was intensely aware of her presence. 

“What?” Tom asked, curious for the moment and the party suddenly forgotten. 

“N-nothing…” She trailed off, her face continuing to darken. 

Tom narrowed his eyes. He hated being lied to more than anything, and seeing as how Ivy never lied to him he was suddenly very suspicious. 

“What is it?” He asked so softly but dangerously. “Did something happen?” He turned to face her but she still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Did someone do something to you? Tell. 

Me.” He grasped onto her wrist tightly and didn’t much mind that he caused her to yelp in surprise. 

“I told you, nothing! I-I was writing…in the diary.” She said this bit softly but met his dark eyes straight-on and he knew that she was telling the truth. 

“…You spent all day writing?” His lips curled in a cold smile. “Well, I can’t help but say that I do know how to keep you busy.” He laughed softly. 

Ivy’s face flushed even more. 

Tom eyes her in her school clothes, her ensemble of bronze and blue doing wonders to her pale complexion, but noticed some things we off. She was dressed well, as usual, but her tie was a bit crooked and her hair was wispier than usual. Seemingly insignificant details rang out like a bell and suddenly it all clicked in his brilliant mind. 

“Were you…entertaining…my Horcrux?” He asked raising one thin eyebrow. His voice laced with a mixture of amusement, arousal and a sudden hot spike of jealousy.

“Well, you did tell me to write in it—”

“I didn’t mean writing.” 

That did it. Ivy’s face turned beet red and she covered it with her hands, effectively hiding herself from further onslaught and thereby proving Tom absolutely correct in his guess.   
So he did the best thing he could think of in that moment. 

He laughed. A high, cold, laugh that he only let loose when he found things to be truly amusing. He laughed hard, holding his sides and when he was done he was wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes and he stood up straight to stare down at the girl in front of him. His girl. His Ivy. His Queen. His possession. 

He moved fast, grasping Ivy’s upper arms and moving her bodily into the nearest classroom. Being so much shorter than him and lighter, it was much too easy for him to overpower her. He yanked out his wand from his pocket and shot a silent locking charm at the door. 

“Tom!” Ivy squeaked in alarm. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Quiet.” He said softly and she instantly closed her mouth. “I have a few things to say to you.” He was still holding on to her with his wandless hand and steered her smoothly over to one wall. “I see you have been doing exactly what I asked of you.” 

It wasn’t a question but Ivy was confused all the same. 

“What do you mean Tom?” 

“I asked you to take care of it, of the journal. I asked you to write to him—me—and keep us connected. And as usual, you have been more than trustworthy…more than thorough. So why is it that the thought of you with someone else—even me—make my blood boil?” He was still using his soft voice, and his eyes were boring into Ivy’s. He was grasping her with both hands; his wand had been dropped to the floor and forgotten the moment after he had locked the classroom door. 

Suddenly the look in Ivy’s eyes changed and Tom could swear that he could hear the gears turning in her head. 

“Mav, I didn’t cheat on you.” 

That caught him up short and managed to deflate a little of his anger. Ivy raised her hands, causing his grip to loosen on her arms as she cupped his face. 

“Mav…can I tell you something?” 

“Anything.” He breathed in desperation to keep the connection between himself and the witch before him. 

“I love you.” 

Hogwarts, Scotland, June 1944

Abraxus Malfoy wasn’t the smartest student in Hogwarts. He wasn’t the most cunning. Hell, he wasn’t even the richest Slytherin or Pure Blood. But, he certainly wasn’t stupid, either. And he knew, oh yes, he knew, what he had an opportunity laid before him that was this good that he would be called stupid if he didn’t give in. 

For years he had grown closer to Tom Riddle. He had seen with his own pale eyes the cruelty of the other boy, had heard of his daring use of Unforgivable Curses, had smelled the scent of blood on his clothes. No small part of Abraxus was excited by these qualities. A noble pure blood born and bred had caused Abraxus to become bored with his prospects even before he came to Hogwarts. But Tom, Tom had come sweeping in and dusted the cobwebs from the other boy’s mind. He had made Abraxus’s life exciting, almost intoxicatingly so. 

And Abraxus, being a noble pure blood, born and bred, had become an addict. 

“You wish to go to the continent this summer, Lord?” He asked his interest immediately piqued. At first the title had started as a joke many years ago. Abraxus had begun calling Tom Riddle ‘Lord’ ever since he found out about his housemate’s superior lineage as the Heir of Slytherin. Ever since then, it had stuck. And even though it had at first been as a playful tease, Tom had seemed to grow into it…had seemed to expect it. 

And Abraxus had found that he hadn’t minded. It had become part of the game, the wonderful, addicting game in which he had found himself a willing pawn. 

“Indeed Abraxus. The next phase of the plan is somewhere out there and I need more information. How well did you say your ties to Durmstrang were again?”

“The one of the members of the board is an old friend of my father, and his son, Vincent and I are close.” Abraxus supplied eagerly. 

“And what did you say the wizard’s name was again?” Tom said as he completed packing all of his belongings into his school trunk. 

“Karkoroff, Maxwell Karkoroff.” 

“Excellent. I know things have been in an uproar since the whole Grindelwald fiasco got started but as you have assured me that Durmstrang is safe and I think the three of us will be perfectly fine.” He said airily. 

“The three of us, Lord?” Abraxus frowned but got a sudden chill of apprehension up his spine that somewhat dampened his previous excitement. 

“Ivy will accompany us, of course.” 

“Of course.” Abraxus echoed. He eyed the taller wizard before him with a mixture of fear and awe. Even since Tom had come to Hogwarts he had commanded others around him with such poise, such charisma that no-one would have ever expected the monster that lay under the mask. 

Abraxus Malfoy had been nearly glued to Tom’s side for their six years and the only person whom he could say was closer to the Heir was Ivy. At first Abraxus had been forced to accept the Ravenclaw Prefect with a sort of grudging admiration though he had to admit that Tom’s inability to be separated from her had irked him a bit. But though the years she had grown on the blonde and they had struck up a mild friendship. He had taken her into Malfoy Manor as a guest for the most part of the previous five summers and he had come to find that over the past year his feelings of friendship had…changed. 

At the mention of her name now, Abraxus had to stop the pale blush that threatened to erupt across his face. But in all things he was a master of self-control and that fact was what saved his wizard hide in those moments for Abraxus knew, he just knew, that if Tom ever found out about his feelings that they would be the last things he would ever know.   
Sure, Tom wouldn’t outright kill Abraxus. No, he would make it far less obvious. Perhaps the Malfoy heir would simply disappear one day or perhaps he would be picked off by an unfortunate accident. Whatever the case, hearing now that he would be forced to spend most of the summer holiday with the object of his affections along with his best friend and possible murderer if Tom were to ever find out, did not bode well for Abraxus’s nerves. Or his life, for that matter. 

However, his feelings for Ivy, however unwanted, did little to stifle his desire to be close to Tom, and for almost the whole summer. Abraxus struggled with himself for a bit, these two opposing desired warring before one finally won-out. 

“In any case,” Tom’s drawling voice continued, “Ivy any myself are required to visit that hell-hole for at least a week before we depart so you should expect us at the Manor by June fifteenth at the latest.” 

“Of course, my Lord. However…I was under the impression that you would be fulfilling an internship with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” Abraxus said carefully, almost kicking himself for suggesting something that would rid him of his summer plans. 

“Ah, yes. Well, I informed Sluggy that thought I very much appreciated his illustrious offer, I couldn’t possibly accept due to my other commitments. He was very nearly heart-broken when I told him I would be volunteering over the summer at St. Mungo’s.” Tom’s lips curled up in a cruel smile. “As if I would ever step foot in that vermin-infested place.”   
“Brilliant, my Lord.” Abraxus all but parroted, instead he was silently sighing at this last ditch effort to extract himself from a potentially painful holiday while at the same time silently rejoicing that they would actually occur. 

“Indeed. Alright, the packing is complete,” he checked his watch before adding, “And it’s almost time to catch the train. Are you done?” 

“Yes, I finished a bit ago.” 

“Perfect, then there’s one last thing that needs doing.” 

It happened so quickly that for years afterwards Abraxus still wasn’t sure if the flash of light or the pain was the first thing he noticed. 

He screamed as he clutched his forearm of his left arm. He rolled himself into a ball, his eyes watering from the pain. Out of the corner of his pain-hazed vision he saw a strange sight. The other inhabitants of their dorm, Regus Lestrange, Thoros Nott, Alphard Black and Jaxus Avery had entered, each holding up the left sleeve of their robes exposing their forearms which appeared to be seared black. As his vision cleared and the pain began to ebb he saw what he had mistaken for blackened flesh to be a design. Squinting, Abraxus was suddenly struck by the image. It was of a naked skull, a great dark snake pulsing through its mouth and around the crown of bone. 

“It is done.” Tom’s voice said softly and it cut through the remainder of Abraxus’s pain like a warm knife through butter. 

“W-what?” the blonde gasped. 

“My dear Abraxus, my loyal Abraxus,” Tom knelt down next to the other man’s struggling form. “Did you really think that I would allow you to come with me unmarked?”   
“N-no my Lord, never.” Abraxus didn’t really know what Tom was talking about but it seemed the safest answer. 

“Liar.” Tom whispered softly. “But, you are forgiven. After all, I can’t expect everyone to guess the next steps of my plans.” He straightened up from the floor and beckoned to the other four wizards in the room. “Gentlemen, at last we have completed our number. You, each of you, have proven yourselves loyal to me and have thus earned the mark that is now branded into your flesh. This, ‘Dark Mark’, will place you apart from our peers…and lesser classmates,” his handsome face suddenly became quite ugly as he sneered. 

Abraxus, still sitting on the floor but by this point had risen, shivered slightly at the expression. Luckily, Tom didn’t notice. 

“As such, there will be changes among us,” Tom continued, his voice growing softer but no less hard and despite himself, Abraxus felt his pulse quicken. “Next year, our last year at Hogwarts, and all the years beyond will mark a turning point in our book just as I have marked you as mine. As such I come to you no longer as Tom Marvolo Riddle, in fact that name which was given to me by a man, with whom I hold no further relation, will be stripped just as the skin was stripped from your arms.” 

Tom paused in his oration and took a moment to lock eyes with each of the men standing in the sixth year dorm. 

“From this point on,” he whipped out his wand with a flourish causing silver words to be written in the air as if they were ripped from the very fabric of reality. And though graceful, they exuded a certain violence that was quite enticing to Abraxus. “From this point on, I am Lord Voldemort.” 

As he spoke, the words were written and with them Abraxus felt his own fate come locking into place. He stood up shakily but was the first to kneel in front of the tall boy turned man turned lord in front of him. 

“My Lord Voldemort, I live to serve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading! This story is cross-posted on Fanfiction.net but please comment and let me know your thoughts!


	17. Wisdom over Power?

Chapter 17: Wisdom over Power?

Hogwarts, Scotland, October 1944

Tom was frustrated, it was all taking too long and he had a feeling that it might be a waste of time to pursue the Deathly Hallows at this point anyway. He chewed on this point for a while, completing a mental pros and cons list comparing the merits of completing his seven Horcruxes now versus putting a hold on their development so that he could get his hands on the elder wand. 

He put the finishing touches on his NEWTS level potions essay and leaned back heavily in his chair with only partial relief. Only one item crossed off his otherwise lengthy checklist. He reached both hands above his head and stretched his lanky form to rid himself of the stiffness of the last several hours. He gazed at the ceiling of the library for a few luxurious moments as he allowed his mind to reset itself from the arduous and even superfluous tasks that his classwork now provided. 

Then he smirked. After all, as the top student at Hogwarts and Head Boy to boot, he had more…meaningful and fulfilling tasks to attend to than his potions essay. 

Glancing around briefly, he noticed that he was the first of all the other Seventh years to be done with his mountain of parchment that Professor Slughorn had assigned. Chuckling with a small amount of pleasure, he checked his watch and acknowledged that he had about half an hour before his rounds as Head Boy would begin. 

Perfect.

Picking himself up out of his chair he decided to pay a visit to his secret room to see how the preparations were going. And he reasoned, depending on the results, he would either scrap the entire project, or more forward with it. He wound himself through the study tables, dodging giggling Second years and avoiding precarious stacks of books left by sweating Fifth years. He was slowly but surely making his way to the third floor and with each step he could feel the pathway that his life was beginning to take shape. 

Checking his watch as he made his way down the deserted corridor, Tom noted that he had twenty minutes remaining. He slowed his pace and casually strode past the blank wall three times, thinking to himself, I need to see Ivy, I need a room for privacy, with each step he took. After the third pass the door materialized, magically of course, from the thick stone wall. 

The room was something he had stumbled upon in his fourth year after desperately needing somewhere to study away from all of the incessant cooing of the female students. He had made the solitary trip, at the time morosely wishing Ivy hadn’t had a class during one of his only free periods when, just as now, a door had materialized out of the wall. It only took a few more tries of experimentation to discern that one needed three passes for the door to appear. 

Cautiously, Tom had opened the ancient steel handle just in case it was some trick organized by the poltergeist, Peeves, or perhaps the castle itself, when low and behold the door had revealed the perfect study chamber. It had been a decently sized room adorned with silver and green hangings and comfortable chairs and tables satisfactory for finishing his nearly due charms essay. Since then, Tom had made the room his own private getaway—especially after having to close the Chamber of Secrets in his Fifth year after the creation of his first Horcrux. 

The Head Boy let himself in the aforementioned room as noiselessly as he could so as not to disturb whatever was happening on the other side of the door. He turned to close the door behind him when flustered tones made him pause. 

“No, no, no! Not that way, stick it right here, I need to be able to see it.” Ivy’s voice clearly rang out in the spacious room. 

“I’m trying; your arse is in the way, move that way!” Abraxus’s voice followed hers, his tenor tones breathy with exertion. 

“Ouch! I didn’t say to stick it there you idiot!”

Tom blinked as his dark gaze took in the scene laid out before him. His mind briefly considering whether or not to be amused at Abraxus’s obvious struggles or annoyed that he was currently standing closer to Ivy than Tom was. 

But in the end, amusement won out as he clearly saw that Ivy was holding the map securely on the table while Abraxus was moving his wand slowly up and down the delicate parchment in what Tom assumed to be the pattern of a revealing spell. There was, he reasoned, no reason to be upset. After all his two most valuable chess pieces were also his most loyal. 

“Don’t call me an idiot!” Abraxus shot back as he attempted to complete the spell through Ivy’s armpit. 

“Then don’t act like one, oh I knew I should have just done it myself!” She snapped at him and hotly elbowed him away from her as she tried to re-situate the map. 

“…Trouble, my friends?” Tom inquired politely, dry amusement evident in his tone. 

Both of his closest followers looked up abruptly from their debate, each coloring slightly as if they were caught doing something nefarious. 

Though, Tom supposed, weren’t they all doing something nefarious? 

The thought didn’t even make him bat an eye. To Tom, all ends justified any means he chose to enact. 

“Now, what have you discovered?” He would finally have his answer. 

Outside of Beisfjord, Norway, July 1944

Abraxus’s summer was going either very poorly or rather swimmingly depending on which perspective he might choose to take in any given moment. On the positive side, he had gotten to spend almost the entire month of June by the side of his newly christened Lord Voldemort. He had been able to serve to a higher standard than any of the other so-named Death Eaters and in his heart he knew the others would be rather envious of his favor once he returned to school. 

But…there was also Ivy. 

The Malfoy heir slid his eyes as inconspicuously as he could to regard the brown-haired lass sitting across from him. The vision of her bright eyes and face smiling with delight at the new wonders that the Durmstrang castle library provided was positively delicious. The sight gave him a crawling sensation in his stomach, which, by itself, wasn’t at all unpleasant, but paired with the overwhelming sense of guilt that Abraxus felt about his feelings in the first place, made it nearly unbearable. 

His feelings for Ivy which he had been aware of over the past school year were something that he had both been attempting to deny and to squash down entirely. Instead thanks to his current situation, the cursed things only grew stronger in the harsh reality of nearly unlimited contact over the past several weeks of summer. And he just hoped against hope that it wasn’t anywhere as obvious to his two companions as it felt to him. 

He gnashed his teeth in frustration. 

“Are you alright Abraxus?” Ivy’s concerned tone jarred his thoughts. 

“Hm? Oh yes, quite. Just a little chilly in here, don’t you think?” 

“Is it? I didn’t notice.” She turned her attention back to the scroll of parchment that she had been scanning. 

Abraxus signed with relief. Of course it wasn’t obvious, he was being stupid. 

His body seemed to be doing a lot of stupid things lately. 

He took a deep breath and willed himself to put his feelings aside for the sake of the task at hand. He turned his attention back to his own scroll though the words might as well have been in another language for all he knew. 

“I didn’t know you could read Greek.” Said a mildly interested voice. 

Abraxus jumped. Stupid. 

“You continue to surprise me, Abraxus.” Tom chuckled to himself as he continued past to his own area of research, several large tomes in hand. 

Abraxus glanced down at the aged paper in front of him and winced internally. It was written in ancient Greek. And you didn’t even notice! He gingerly rolled the thing back up and muttered lowly that he was ‘out of practice anyway’ before grabbing something he could actually understand. 

The three were in the third floor library of the Durmstrang Institute, taking an opportunity to look up items of interest to Tom after being allowed to wander for the better part of the day. Abraxus had been able to have his father, Heracles, pull a few strings and provide the opportunity for the three of them to take a tour of the school, unguided of course. It had been remarkably simple to arrange fiver that their family boasted quite close connections with the current Headmaster, Maxwell Karkaroff. Indeed, Abraxus himself almost went to Durmstrang but his parents decided that someone would need to ensure the family name continue at Hogwarts. 

As his thoughts reflected these facts, his eyes began to linger once again towards Ivy’s lithe frame as she bent further over to examine another dusty volume. She really was enticing. 

He shook himself. 

All for the sake of the plan, he told himself resolutely. Yes, the plan. 

If only Tom would actually tell him what it was. 

All he knew was that his Lord was interested in the Dark Arts which were taught, with discretion, as part of the curriculum at Durmstrang. But, as with any subject, the Dark Arts ranged from obvious things like animating the dead and creating Inferi, to tiny things like casting dark charms to curse someone’s bedclothes to dance every time they wanted to sleep. It was like looking for a specific needle in a pile as big as the whole of Hogwarts castle. 

Tom couldn’t see just what they could accomplish in one afternoon. 

But as with all things where Tom Riddle was concerned, Abraxus was inevitably surprised. 

The picture began to get clearer when he pieced together the kinds of books the three were mainly seeking. Abraxus had been told to seek biographies from famous witches and wizards from around the time of the founding of Hogwarts. These of course included the adventures of the four founders themselves. Ivy had been attacking volume after volume surrounding dark enchantments, but not those that were typically used on people. No, she was looking up powerful curses to perform on inanimate objects. But the last piece didn’t fall into place for the Malfoy heir until he happened to glance at the title of one of the books Tom had picked up. It was so named: Anciente Magics for Prolonging Life and Limbe. 

“Excuse me Lord.” He finally asked after several hours of silence which had been perforated only by falling dust and the soothing scuffle of pages. “But I didn’t hear you state exactly what we were looking for.” 

Tom paused in turning his most recent page. He waited a few breaths before answering, a little crease forming between his eyes, an expression that Abraxus had learned meant that the other wizard was deep in thought. 

“I suppose you are correct, Abraxus. But my friend, you are as cunning as any other Slytherin. You can’t tell me you haven’t at least deduced something.” Voldemort smiled at Abraxus in his too-nice-to-truly-be-nice way. 

Abraxus inhaled sharply. Always being tested, he was. 

“Of course my Lord.” He stated casually. 

Tom lifted his hand to wordlessly ask him to continue. 

By this point Ivy too had paused in her research to watch the verbal tennis match. 

“Based on the books that were have been perusing alone, my theory is a simple one: I believe you are looking for an object to enchant in order to prolong your life.” It was a gamble, but only time would tell if it was as stupid as his miss-guided attraction to his Lord’s Lady. 

Tom did nothing for a few solid beats of Abraxus’s terrified heart. But then he smiled. It wasn’t the kind of smile that Abraxus expected. It wasn’t a cruel smile that told him he would be punished for his impertinence. It was a crazy, insane, wild smile. It made Tom look slightly unhinged and decidedly less charismatic. It wasn’t an expression that Abraxus had ever seen cross Tom’s face before. 

Slightly unnerved, he glanced toward Ivy and was equally unnerved to see a look of such complete adoration on hers that it made him feel like the only sane man stranded in the middle of an insane sea. 

“How absolutely correct you are, dear Abraxus.” 

Well, it seemed he had no choice but to let the tide carry him where it might. 

֍֍֍

They found the map quite by accident less than an hour later. It was Ivy who found it. She had wandered into what they assumed must have been Durmstrang’s equivalent to a restricted section, though it appeared that the only caution was for the antiquity of the books and not a young student’s education or innocence. She had stood on tip-toe to reach a book near the top shelf and had found the old crusty document folded up inside the front cover. 

Abraxus had been watching her again; this time from behind an open volume which he half-heartedly hoped would hide the feelings which he knew must be plain upon his face. He watched her wander between the shelves from about thirty feet away. He watched her face with fascination, the way her eyebrows creased when she was deep in thought. The way she chewed on her top lip when she was puzzling through a particularly difficult question. 

Because of how closely he was watching her, he was able to see the shocked expression as it danced across her face upon opening the book. He was too far away to see the title, too far away to see more than a tan blotch of color as she pulled free the aged piece of parchment from the dusty volume. But he could see the excitement in her violet eyes as she immediately brought the possession over to their table. 

She set it down carefully and Abraxus could see that Tom had picked up on their female companion’s almost palpable enthusiasm and had put down his own tome to see what had been discovered. 

“What is it?” Abraxus asked the question that seemed to be on all of their minds. 

“It’s not what we were looking for, but I think it’s even better.” Ivy breathed; he noticed that she addressed the answer to Tom though their Lord hadn’t even asked the question.   
“Explain.” Tom’s voice was coursing with interest, his dark eyes practically glued to Ivy’s. 

“Well, if this is what I think it is, this book along with this other piece of parchment will lead us to the most powerful wand ever created.” 

Abraxus frowned and looked sideways to read the title of the book. 

“Tales of Beetle the Bard…you can’t mean you actually believe that this collection of children’s stories is real—” he cut himself off as the gears behind his head began to turn quickly. “The Elder wand!” 

“Exactly.” Continued Ivy. “And it looks like a certain someone has already done a fair amount of the work for us.” She turned the parchment which had been stuck inside the book to show both boys what was written in fading ink: Property of Gellert Grindelwald. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, October 1944

“Well, we think we might have come to a final explanation, Lord”. Came Abraxus’s stilted reply

The map had been difficult to decipher for it really didn’t appear to be a map at all. What it was to the unobserving eye was a family tree. But Ivy, who had been searching with Tom through tomes and tomes of family trees since they first stepped foot into Hogwarts for any scrap of evidence that they belonged to the wizarding world, had been able to deduce just how important that particular family tree had truly been. The document was a sloppy transcript of the Peverell family, the original three brothers from the bedtime story. 

Ever since at day in the Durmstrang library, Tom reflected, the three had become obsessed with the idea of possessing the Deathly Hallows. 

“Excellent.” Tom continued into the room and sat down in one of the stuffed armchairs, leaning back regally, but expectantly. “I have fifteen minutes for you to provide an update before Ivy and myself need to complete our rounds.” 

Abraxus didn’t need telling twice. “We were initially correct in our assumption that the parchment is a reasonably accurate list of the decedents of the Peverell family, and Grindelwald was also careful to document as much as possible while he was at school that the items actually were passed down the three lines.” 

“However,” interrupted Ivy, “the map itself is incomplete, we believe that either Grindelwald was unable to complete it and abandoned the task, or, the more likely option is that he left it that way on purpose and took the rest of the information with him. In either case, there isn’t much else we can do with what we have now. The list cuts off about three generations ago…and the map itself can’t be read without a cipher.” 

Tom nodded absently, it wasn’t entirely a surprise. The three of them had been attempting to wring information from the piece of paper for several months, but to no avail. 

However, there was one silver lining. Well, at least Tom could finally make a choice as to where to put his attention next. 

“No matter friends. We have the most important information that we need.” 

“My Lord?” Abraxus asked. 

“Given that we know exactly where Grindelwald is now…and given how much research he completed before he was…excused…from Durmstrang, we can deduce that he is either in possession of at least one of the Hallows, or is close to possessing it. I say we let him have them all.” 

Both of his pawns appeared taken aback by his lack of attachment after so many months of hard work. 

“For now”. He added as an afterthought. “We let him do the hard work in acquiring them…and we pick them up from him once we have accomplished that other objective. The other objective that needs to be completed before we leave Hogwarts at the end of the year.”

“Other objective, my Lord?” Abraxus echoed his previous question. 

“Yes Abraxus. What do you know of Rowena Ravenclaw and her lost Diadem?”. 

Hogwarts, Scotland, March 1945

It was Ivy who approached the Grey Lady first. Being a student of Ravenclaw, she had heard stories about the treasure of Rowena Ravenclaw ever since she was a first year. She had heard of Ravenclaw’s prized diadem which was said to enhance the wisdom of the wearer. Countless students had searched for the treasure; none had ever succeeded in finding it. She had even gone so far as to ask almost everyone she knew about it, including her friend Susan one night in third year. 

Of all the treasures of the Founders, Ivy felt closest to the Diadem. She wasn’t sure if it was simply because it belonged to the Founder of her own house, or if it was for some other reason. But Ivy knew that she wanted to be the one who finally uncovered it. 

Thus, she had approached the Ravenclaw Ghost. They had been a simple conversation at first, the Grey Lady was shy and it had taken Ivy months to gain her trust. She had begun by seeking out the ghost, quietly studying by her side. She would occasionally ask her questions about the castle, sometimes remarking about a particularly challenging charms theory question for her NEWTS, when the secret came up quite out of nowhere. 

“I think a student like you would have made my mother proud.” 

“Your mother?” Ivy asked as she surfaced from an essay on the properties of explosive charms. 

“Yes, Rowena Ravenclaw.” 

“You…you’re Helena Ravenclaw, then?” Ivy asked carefully. 

“Yes.” The ghost said with a mixture of pride and another feeling that Ivy couldn’t place. “You embody all of the characteristics prized by our noble house: wit, wisdom and the unending pursuit of knowledge.” 

Ivy paused in her line of questioning to absorb this compliment. She didn’t know how to take being praised by someone who actually knew Rowena Ravenclaw. 

“But, I notice that we aren’t alone.” The Grey Lady narrowed her eyes. “You, who are you to lurk in the shadows? To interrupt a private conversation?” 

Ivy looked up to where the Lady was speaking to see Tom step out from behind a doorway. Just as they had planned. 

“I came to check on my partner.” He said plainly, the truth, for once. 

“A Slytherin, partners with a Ravenclaw?” The ghost stated with disbelief. 

“In this case, yes.” Ivy answered the question. 

The ghost snorted. “Your house is full of nothing but traitorous snakes,” she turned to regard Ivy, “mark my words little bird: use caution for he will devour you.” She turned towards the wall, threatening to pass through into the classroom beyond. 

“You speak as if from personal experience, madam. My house symbol may be a snake, but I assure you I am much more. Just as you are much more than the Grey Lady.” 

The ghost paused and looked at Tom with amusement. 

“And what do you know of me?” 

“What I know is this. You are proud, Helena Ravenclaw, but even in death you regret. You spend your time roaming this castle in a fool’s hope that you would hold some kind of candle to the magnificence of your mother. You were jealous of her…of her success. But in death, you regret what you might have achieved had you only lived. You walk about hoping to achieve some kind of immortality…but you have only become, well, a ghost of what you once were.” 

Ivy held her breath. It was a large gamble, and, if it were another House ghost he was bating…perhaps the Bloody Baron or even the Fat Friar…it might have blown up in Tom’s face. But he had been dealing with the cool logic of a Ravenclaw all his life. He knew how to goad one into having a debate surrounding wits. 

The Grey Lady regarded him with her silver eyes, so cold in death but perhaps not so in life. After several moments of analytical silence, she smiled. 

“Perhaps not all Slytherins are traitorous snakes”, she amended, “but you are right, I do speak from personal experience”. 

Tom smiled and walked forward to continue his conversation with the descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw. 

“Pray tell.” 

The ghost of Helena Ravenclaw took a deep breath and began her tale. Ivy wasn’t sure if these words had been heard for centuries. She and Tom sat silently as Helena told her story of theft, jealousy, passion, and tragedy. She revealed that it was she who stole the Diadem that she had run away from it wishing to prove that she might be greater than her famous mother. She had told that her mother had grown ill, very ill during this time and had sent the Baron of Orkney after her, all the way to the forests of Albania. She shared that the man had been a Slytherin in her time and had been deeply in love with her. She had scorned his advances time and time again, but this last time, she wasn’t so lucky. 

“He tracked me to the forest where I was hiding. When I refused to return with him, he became violent. The baron was always a hot-tempered man. Furious at my refusal, jealous of my freedom, he stabbed me... When he saw what he had done, he was overcome with remorse. He took the weapon that had claimed my life, and used it to kill himself. All these centuries later, he wears his chains as an act of penitence... as he should.”

She became silent after relaying the final piece of her tale. 

Ivy soaked it in, grasping Helena’s dislike for Tom at first had been because the man who murdered her was also a Slytherin. 

“So you see,” the Grey Lady continued, “I have—much—to regret young Slytherin”.

Tom inclined his head in acceptance. “Indeed you do and I thank you for sharing your story with us, Lady. There is much in it that we can benefit from hearing now.” 

Ivy barely heard the rest of the conversation, her mind felt like it was spinning with all the information she had just heard. The Diadem was not truly lost at all; she needed to only find it. And on that day Ivy swore she would. She would fine the Diadem and she would help her Lord complete the next step of his journey.


End file.
